#little do you know we have 13 more hours of this...

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 13

You can read previous chapters here.

Summary: As Y/n spirals out of control, Feyre steps in, forcing a change that leaves the sisters at odds.

Warnings: substance abuse, mention of death, trauma, angst.

WC: 4 K.

A knock sounded on Y/n’s door. Then another, and another, insistent, until she finally opened it. She was high as hell on some new drug when she saw Azriel standing in the hallway. Squinting, she rubbed her eyes. 

“Am I hallucinating, or are you really here?” Her voice was languid, tinged with disbelief.

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, scanning her face. “What the hell did you take?”

Y/n shrugged, swaying slightly. “What do you want? I think it’s too early in the morning. I just fell asleep. Come back another time.” She moved to close the door.

A groan sounded from her living room, low and slurred. Azriel’s brow furrowed as he glanced past her. “Who’s in there?” he demanded, his tone sharp.

“I don’t know,” she replied with a lazy shrug, her lips curling into a careless smile. “I don’t usually let anyone stay over. I guess whatever I took was good enough to make me forget.” She let out a giggle, her hand hovering over the door as she moved to shut it again. But before she could, Azriel’s foot slipped into the gap, holding the door open. His expression hardened as he stepped inside, casting a critical gaze around the dim room.  This was the first time he’d been here, though there wasn’t much to see.The sparse, cluttered apartment revealed little about her, save for the state of the coffee table, scattered with substances potent enough to kill with a single wrong dose. He wasn’t sure if she was lucky or if she hadn’t taken much, but judging by the state she was in, he guessed it was the former.

On her couch lay a male, barely conscious, his eyes glazed. But one piercing look from Azriel sent him scrambling out the door. Y/n pouted, throwing herself onto the couch where the male had been seconds earlier. 

“Aww, you scared the poor thing,” she murmured with a mock scold. 

Azriel’s jaw clenched. “What the hell is this, Y/n?” He gestured to the array of vials and powders on the table. A flicker of anger shadowed his eyes, tinged with something close to concern. She shrugged.

“Feyre wants you at the house,” he informed her, his voice taut.

“Which one? Doesn’t she, like, own a dozen?” she replied with an eye roll.

“The new one.”

She smirked, “And why send their lap dog? Couldn’t she have come herself?”

His gaze darkened. “Feyre is High Lady of the Night Court. She has more important things to do.”

“Since this is not important, she can come another day. When she’s not so busy. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need some sleep,” she muttered, closing her eyes and sinking back into the cushions.

“That’s not happening. I was specifically instructed to get you there by nine.”

She cracked one eye open, glancing at him with feigned irritation. “What time is it now?”

“Seven.”

“Then let me sleep for two hours, and then we can go.” She closed her eyes again.

Azriel folded his arms. “You need to look… presentable.”

“Fine. Whatever. Leave, and I’ll be ready by then,” she grumbled, rolling onto her side.

“The moment I leave, you’re going to fall asleep again.”

She huffed, opening her eyes fully to glare at him. “Fine. What will it take for you to stop talking?”

“You need to take a bath,” he replied, his voice still firm, ignoring her question.

Her lips curled into a smirk. “Well, I’m not doing that while you’re standing here.”

He sighed, his expression exasperated. “I’ll get you some food. Just be done when I get back.”

When he returned with breakfast, she was nowhere in sight. He assumed she was still in the bathing chamber and set the food on the small table before scanning her chaotic apartment. Fifteen minutes passed, and concern began to cloud his patience. He knocked on the bathing chamber door, once, twice, three times. There was no answer. Then he asked, his voice tinged with worry.  “Y/n, are you in there? I’m coming in.”

She finally spoke, her tone sharp. “Don’t you dare.”

He exhaled, relief barely masking his frustration. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

“Mother above, I was just relaxing,” came her indignant reply.

“Be out in five minutes,” he ordered.

Her laughter was faintly mocking. “I don’t take orders from you.”

Azriel’s patience thinned, his tone sharpening. He was done playing her little games “Let me make this clear: if you’re not out in five minutes, I will have to come in and get you.”

“You’re such a brute,” she muttered, but after a pause, he heard movement. 

She emerged a few moments later, dressed and looking marginally more awake. He handed her a cup of tea, his expression still neutral.

“Did you put poison in it?” she quipped, an eyebrow raised.

“If I wanted you dead, that wouldn’t be the way I’d go about it,” he replied dryly.

She chuckled, amused. “Oh? And how would you do it? Please, do tell.” 

Azriel’s eyes lingered on her, a brief flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “You really don’t care, do you?”

“What’s there left to care about?” she replied, her voice hollow. “And if you say my sisters, I will electrocute you.”

“You still have your powers?” His question was calm, but his eyes searched hers intently.

Her gaze shifted, guarded. “That is none of your business.”

—

The riverfront house loomed before them, its elegant structure casting long shadows under the morning sun. Y/n gazed up at it with a flicker of disdain. She had been here only once before, when Feyre had shown her around during its construction. They even had a room made for her, not that she’d appreciate it.

The rooms had felt cold and empty then, even with her sister’s warmth. Now, they felt like a cage.

Azriel led her inside without a word, his pace brisk and purposeful. The scent of fresh wood and lavender filled the air, but it only heightened her unease. The inside was as pristine and lifeless as she remembered. Her gaze flicked over the walls adorned with portraits, smiling faces of people she knew. But there were none of her, none of Nesta, and none of their mother. She felt the absence like a sharp knife to her chest. 

Y/n loved her mother dearly. With her, she had been different—kind, caring. Everything a mother should be. At least, that’s how Y/n remembered her. She had been four and a half when her mother had Nesta, and even at a young age, Y/n could recall how happy her mother had been before marrying her sisters’ father. He hadn’t been horrible to her; on the contrary, he had given her a luxurious life and loved her deeply. But she did not love him. She had married him for stability, and for Y/n’s sake, and then she had his children.

Although her mother grew colder with time, Y/n never felt the brunt of it. She had been her favorite, her constant, and she knew from a young age that she was destined to grow into a stubborn woman. Her mother had believed Elain would marry for love—she looked like a doll, after all. She trained Nesta to marry a prince and mostly ignored Feyre. Y/n, however, was simply allowed to be. She had been spoiled, indulged, never told no.

She had enjoyed dressing up, but not the attention that came with it. Balls were tolerated, not loved. She would attend one or two with her mother, then leave the rest for Nesta. She even endured dancing and etiquette lessons with her sister but never stayed long enough for them to leave an impression. They just didn’t interest her. What did interest her was adventure—exploring new places, finding hidden corners of their world. She had done that with her childhood friend. But that was a story for another time.

The scent of lavender snapped her back to the present, clashing with the memories that swirled like smoke in her mind. Those fleeting moments of joy and comfort felt so distant now, their warmth overshadowed by the cold reality of the house she now stood in.

Azriel led her into the spacious sitting room, where Feyre, Rhys, Amren, and Cassian were gathered, their expressions expectant. 

Y/n leaned against the doorway, crossing her arms as a smirk tugged at her lips.

“So, this is what kept you too busy to fetch me yourself?” Her tone was cutting, her gaze flicking to Feyre.

Rhys bristled immediately. “She doesn’t have to answer to you,” he snapped.

Feyre rested a calming hand on his arm, but her gaze remained steady on her sister. “You look like hell. I heard you had a rough night.”

Y/n tilted her head, her smirk widening. “That’s none of your concern.”

“It is,” Amren interjected, her voice like steel. “When you spend exorbitant sums on substances and parties...You and your sister.” She shook her head, clearly disappointed.

Y/n scoffed, ignoring her, and flicked her gaze back to Feyre. “Why is she even here?” 

“We’re here to have a discussion with you,” Feyre said evenly.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, feigning interest. “We? I don’t want to discuss anything with you.”

“You will sit and listen,” Rhys ordered, his voice cold.

Her posture straightened, her smirk vanishing. “Do not tell me what to do. I don’t take orders from you.” Her words were sharp, deliberate, and the tension in the room rose several notches. 

Cassian exhaled heavily, muttering under his breath. “Mother above. You are just like your sister.” 

Y/n turned to glare at him, her voice dripping with venom, “You say that like it’s a bad thing. Yet here you are, panting after her like a stray dog.”

“That is enough,” Feyre said sharply, her authority cutting through the brewing argument, before Cassian could respond. She turned to look at Rhys and the others. “I told you to keep out of it. You can either leave or stay and keep your mouths shut.” Then she focused on her sister again. “Y/n, you need to make some changes.”

“Like hell I do,” Y/n shot back.

Feyre softened her tone, standing up and taking a step closer. “Listen, I know you’ve had it rough. I understand how you’re feeling-”

“You understand nothing about how I’m feeling,” Y/n interrupted, her voice rising.

“Then talk to me,” Feyre pleaded. “Tell me.”

“I’d rather drown myself,” Y/n spat, her eyes flashing with defiance.

Feyre’s expression hardened. “And that’s exactly why things are going to have to change. Starting now.”

“Oh?” Y/n arched a brow, her smirk icy. “You think you can do anything about it?” 

Feyre squared her shoulders, her voice steady. “The life you’ve been living the past year is over. You will move to the House of Wind and train with Cassian and Nesta in Windhaven.”

A snort escaped Y/n as she shook her head. “Is this a joke?”

“No,” Feyre said. “Elain is packing your things as we speak. You’ll move in after this meeting.”

“I’ll do no such thing.”

Amren’s sharp voice cut through. “This is not up for negotiation.”

Y/n’s eyes narrowed, her defiance unwavering. “And if I refuse?”

“You’ll either go to the House of Wind or back to the mortal lands, Amren replied coldly, offering her the same deal they had offered Nesta.

“That’s not an option,” Feyre clarified quickly, casting a warning glance at Amren. Apparently, they forgot to mention to Amren that Y/n is not like Nesta. When it came to her pride, Y/n’s was a fortress, unyielding and absolute; she would sooner die than  allow anyone to tear her down. And seeing as she had wanted to leave long before the war with Hybern, this wasn’t an option. If they thought the threat of the mortal lands would deter her, they were sorely mistaken- she’d choose them in a heartbeat, and Feyre knew that.

Y/n’s grin returned, but it was colder, crueler. “Interesting. It’s like you knew what I’d choose.” She turned her mocking gaze to Feyre. “I’m not going back to that house.”

Feyre faltered for a moment. “Well, you can’t go back to your apartment either. You’ve burned through all your money,” Amren interjected coolly.

“Amren-” Feyre warned, her tone low, but Y/n cut her off.

“That’s fine,” Y/n said with a careless shrug. “There are plenty of ways to make money.”

“Rhys offered you so many positions, and you turned down every single one,” Feyre reminded her, her voice tight with frustration.

“And I never will. I will not work for your mate,” Y/n replied with a sneer.

“You wouldn’t last a day,” Cassian muttered. “Rhys could have every employer in Velaris turn you away with a single word.”

Y/n’s sharp gaze shifted to him, looking him up and down like he was nothing, a dangerous smile tugging at her lips. “And you think that would be a problem for me?” 

“I know it wouldn’t,” Feyre interjected. “And I know you’d rather go back to the mortal lands than face any of us or your problems, which is why that is not an option.”

Y/n’s smirk twisted, colder now. “Well, I’ll just walk there then.”

“Again, not an option,” Feyre repeated.

“So, what? You’re going to drag me to the House of Wind against my will?” Y/n’s voice dripped with mockery., her arms crossing tighter over her chest.

“If that’s what it takes,” Rhys said, his tone calm but his jaw tight with restraint.

“Lo and behold,” Y/n clapped her hands slowly, her smirk sharp. “The people fighting for freedom and free will are the same people who want to lock me up. Magnificent. Could’ve fooled me with that act.”

“Y/n, you’re not well,” Feyre pressed, her voice soft . “We’re not keeping you a prisoner.”

Y/n let out a short, bitter laugh. “Coming from the girl who let her ex lock her up for months and stayed with him? I don’t think you understand the definition of being a prisoner.”

“Do not talk to your sister like that,” Rhys said, his voice lowering as he rose up from his seat and took a step forward, his tone darkening. 

“Oh, so you and your self-righteous clowns are allowed to say and do whatever you like, but when someone else gives you a taste of your own medicine, you can’t handle it?” Y/n’s sharp gaze darted between Rhys and Feyre, her words deliberate.

Feyre took a breath, trying to steady herself. “Y/n, please don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

“What did you think was going to happen?” Y/n shot back, her words biting. “You’d just tell me to move in with that brute and Nesta, that I’d have no say in the matter, and I’d just thank you for it?”

“I- I didn’t want it to come to this,” Feyre stammered, the weight of her words visible in her expression. “But with the amount of money you’ve spent on your nightly activities-”

“Oh! There it is.” Y/n cut her off, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “You’re saying I owe you, aren’t you?”

Feyre flinched at the accusation but didn’t back down. She didn’t want to say that, but she knew  it was the only way Y/n would stay. If she felt like she owed someone a debt. So, she nodded.

“Because my life wasn’t enough for you. My help wasn’t enough?” Y/n’s said, her voice low, dripping with venom. “Fine, you got what you wanted. I’ll stay until my debt is paid.”

The silence that followed was heavy, every word reverberating in the space between them. Finally, Y/n’s tone dropped further, each word laced with ice. “I’d like a word with your High Lady. Alone.” This was the first time Y/n had called her sister that, the title a deliberate choice. The formality of it created a barrier, a cold, impersonal distance that made it clear just how far apart they had grown.

The others hesitated, exchanging glances, but eventually filed out of the room. Rhys lingered by the doorway, his dark gaze warning, before following the others into the hall. They stayed close to intervene, should things spiral out of control.

When it was just the two of them, Y/n spoke again. “Why the sudden care?”

“I’ve always cared, Y/n” Feyre reached out, her hand brushing her sister’s arm.

“Don’t touch me,” Y/n snapped, stepping back sharpy, her eyes blazing with something Feyre couldn’t quite name.

“Y/n, please. I’m your sister.”

“And you only remembered that now? Because I spent a little bit more than usual?” Y/n’s voice cracked slightly, but her expression remained hard.

“A little more than usual?” Feyre’s tone rose slightly, the tension breaking through. “Do you know how much money that was? How embarrassed I was when Rhys got the bill-”

“So that’s what this is about?” Y/n interrupted. “I embarrassed you in front of your new family?... I think you stopped caring about us the moment you became High Fae.”

“You think I stopped caring about you?” Feyre’s voice trembled, and for a moment, the hurt in her eyes was almost too much to bear. “If I did, would I allow you to stay here, disrespect everyone, spend our money recklessly, and destroy yourself?”

“We are here because of you!” Y/n shouted, the words spilling out in anger. “Sometimes, I wonder what our lives would’ve been like if you had stayed dead.” The words left her mouth faster than she could stop them. So cold, and sharper than any blade. It was the last thing she wanted to say to her sister, but now it hung in the air, irreversible. Feyre’s face crumpled, the weight of the statement hitting her like a blow. 

“Oh,” Feyre whispered, her voice barely audible. “I guess we’ll never know.” 

Y/n turned her gaze away, her expression unreadable, but her hands trembled slightly at her sides. “Once the debt is paid,” she said quietly, her voice devoid of emotion. “I want to leave. And I never want to see you again.” 

Feyre blinked, struggling to hold back tears. “Y/n, please-”

“No,” Y/n cut her off, her tone final. “We’re done.”

Y/n had perfected this- pushing away anyone who dared to show they cared about her. With those chilling words, she turned on her heel, striding to the door. She yanked it open and stepped into the hall, where the others stood waiting. Azriel’s heart ached at the sight of her in this state. He had stayed silent through it all, unable to find the right words or intervene in the confrontation. When she stepped out of the room, he couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes. Instead, he kept his gaze fixed on the floor, the weight of his silence pressing heavily on him.

To Cassian’s surprise, Y/n didn’t say anything when he flew her to the house. The flight was quiet, the only sound the rhythmic beat of his wings and the rush of the wind. She stared right ahead, her posture tense but her face carefully blank.

They made sure to place Nesta and Y/n on two separate floors, seeing as they weren’t on speaking terms. No one knew why, and they didn’t dare ask. Feyre hoped they’d at least train together, but Y/n made it clear that she doesn’t wish to be in the same room as her sister. 

When they landed, Cassian let her step down before speaking. “You still have your Illyrian leathers from the war? You’ll need them tomorrow,” he asked, his tone carefully neutral.

“I’m never wearing that thing again,” Y/n replied, her tone icy.

“It’s going to be cold. You’ll need them.” He hesitated, clearly choosing his words carefully.

“You’ll be on your own floor. Nesta has settled in her old room. Mine is a level above, and Az’s is just down the hall from me,” Cassian informed her, his tone soft and cautious, despite the tension between them.

Y/n glanced around the sprawling House, her expression still unreadable. “He’ll stay here with us?” she asked flatly, her gaze flicking to the horizon.

“When he’s in Velaris, yes,” he replied, watching her closely. “Don’t worry, though. You won’t see him much.”

“Good.” Her voice was clipped, her eyes fixed on the mountains in the distance. But beneath her detached tone, a storm churned. The mention of Azriel, his proximity stirred emotions she couldn’t quite place, ones she had long since tried to bury. She had told herself it didn’t matter, that his presence or absence had no bearing on her. And yet, the idea of him being just down the hall brought with it an uneasy tension, one she refused to examine too closely.

Her gaze remained fixed on the distant peaks as though they could steady her. She couldn’t let her thoughts stray, couldn’t afford to acknowledge the flicker of something unfamiliar threading through her otherwise rigid defenses. It was nothing, she told herself firmly, Just an echo of some old familiarity. Nothing more.

Cassian tilted his head slightly, studying her before hesitantly asking. “Did something happen between you and Az?” 

Her head snapped toward him. “No. Why would you think that?” she replied dryly, her posture stiffening.

“It’s just… before the war, you two seemed to get closer and now-”

“Your observation is wrong,” she interrupted, her voice flat and dismissive. “There was nothing to begin with.”

“Whatever you say.” Cassian raised his hands slightly, signaling he wouldn’t push further. “You should eat something. You’ll need all the energy you can get for training tomorrow.”

“I’m not training with you. Especially not at that horrible place.”

Cassian’s brows furrowed, irritation flashing across his face. “Don’t you have a debt to repay?”

“I’d rather see that place burned to the ground than train there,” she snapped.

“You sound like Az,” Cassian muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he turned away.

—

That night was a horrible one for Y/n. She had nothing to dull the pain, to quiet the voices in her head, and mostly, to stop the nightmares. She screamed her father’s name in her sleep as she watched his death replay over and over again in her mind. 

Azriel had just returned from wherever he had been, and the sound of her screaming pulled him toward her room like a magnet. He stopped just outside her door, hesitating. He knew she didn’t want him there, or around, she had made that clear. She didn’t want his help, didn't want his presence, didn’t want anything to do with him since the war. But the sound of her suffering clawed at him, each scream like a blade twisting in his chest, a cruel reminder of how powerless he felt to reach her.

He debated whether to go in and wake her or just stand there and wait for the nightmare to pass. As another anguished cry shattered the silence, he decided to go with the former as he couldn’t just stand by and listen. He reached for the door, his resolve firm, until his shadows whispered, informing him that she had just woken up. 

His hand froze, hovering over the handle. Relief flooded him, but so did disappointment. He stood there, torn. He wanted to hold her, help her, tell her it would be okay, to be the comfort she wouldn’t let herself have. But he knew better. She would never let him in, not in that way- not now, not ever.

Inside, Y/n sat upright in the bed, her breathing ragged. She pressed her hands to her face, trying to block out the lingering images of her father’s death. The nightmares had been worse than usual, sharper, more vivid, without anything to dull the edges. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she tried to steady herself.

Azriel lingered outside her door for a moment longer, his shadows brushing against the wood like a quiet offering of solace. When the silence in her room stretched, he finally turned and walked away, his footsteps silent as he made his way to his own quarters.

Tags: : @st4r-girl-official @judig92 @5onedirection5 @nayaniasworld @blackgirlmagicforever @stained-glass-eyes0708 @slytherintaco @aehllita @nebarious  @t0uch-starved-h0e @bravo-delta-eccho  @sylvermoon @going-through-shit @latinxbipride @i-am-infinite @azrielrot @fuckingsimp4azriel @theravenphoenix26 @hanatsuki-hime @fantanbietsson @rcarbo1 @weasleymagic @secretsicanthideanymore @spymaster03 @elaselat @minnieoo

[drywatermelon]

Songs that start with the same-enough intro

1) Paradise

by rude-a

2) WANTED

by SHINee

3) Runaway Baby

by Bruno Mars

[vaguely-concerned]

trying to look for a ttrpg group in spaces where I can't just go 'listen I want to play this shit in the tumblr fandom kind of model (gay subtext extremely welcome bordering on essential, mutual unhinged character psychoanalysis, we could create a novel of a backstory together to make this sadder, let's all play with our OC dolls together and also sometimes dice are rolled I guess)' and be readily understood and/or not be immediately side-eyed or denigrated for my inherent unavoidable tumblerinaness feels like such an annoying debuff to deal with on the quest. like I know my people exist out there but how do I express myself in the right way and wade through all the copious not-it (not for me) dynamics to find them!!!

[avocado-frog]

how am i supposed to live laugh love under these conditions

tldr for tags my mom found an old journal of mine and read through it so i accidentally outed myself to her lols

[moonstruckme]

Thanks for being patient with me! This is edited on about four hours of sleep so apologies for any errors <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.6k words

Water sizzles on the stove. You reach over to turn down the heat, your side heating from its proximity to the boiling water, before spinning back around to keep speed-chopping onion. This is a result of poor planning. 

It’s possible that some of your nerves could be reinterpreted as excitement. Giddiness, even. You’re finally—finally—doing something to try and repay all the kindness James shows you. You’ve felt like such a mooch, eating his cooking and stealing his time with his friends, but last week had been too much for you to take. He’d discovered the stomach bug you were weathering, and James had completely devoted the next two days of his life to making sure you were looked after. 

Your fever had gotten so out of hand he’d very nearly followed through on his favorite threat (going into your phone while you’re sleeping and phoning your mum), and though you’d done your best to downplay it at the time there are admittedly gaps in your memory wherein you think you were simply too out of it to know what was going on. It’s not a very comforting thought when you’re harboring a humiliating crush on your roommate; you may well have been just as talkative as James always is, you don’t know. At least he hasn’t said anything. 

He had, thankfully, managed to avoid catching it. You’re not sure how he managed what no one on your shift at work did, but you assume it has something to do with all that kale he eats. Which is why you’re doing your best to make the thank-you meal you’re making him as healthy as might suit his standards. 

You hear his key in the door, and a little frisson goes up your spine. 

“You’re early,” you accuse as he walks in. 

“Since when do you know when my training ends?” James asks. You sound like you’re sniping at one another, but as usual the joviality in his tone is unmissable. 

The sounds of his entrance are familiar, perhaps more ingrained in your mind than they ought to be. Keys jingling as he hangs them on the hook, shoes toed off and left by the mat, heavy footsteps headed for wherever you are in the apartment. 

When he finds you in the kitchen, you both speak at once. 

“What happened to your shoulder?” 

“You know how to cook?” 

“Hurt it at training,” James answers, shrugging with the shoulder that doesn’t have an ice pack held to it. He’s probably too nice for it to occur to him to withhold his answer until you’ve given yours, as had been your first thought. “What are you making?” 

“How did you hurt it?” Worry pries at your tone. Your hands have stilled on the cutting board. 

“We had a scrimmage, and I got shoulder-barged.” He gives you a smile, a shadow of the real thing, but gentler. Reassuring. “It’s not bad.” 

You frown. “I don’t know what that means.” 

“Didn’t expect you to, love.” 

“Why do you need to ice it if it’s not bad?” 

There’s a look in James’ eyes that’s wavering between smugness and softness. You balk at the sight of it. “I need to be a bit careful with it,” he hedges, “but it’ll be good by morning. Now, you’ve distracted me. Do you mean to tell me you’ve known how to cook this entire time?” 

“Yes,” you concede with a laugh. “I’ve always said I cook for myself when you’re not around.” 

“And here you are, doing it right before my eyes.” James leans on the counter with his good arm. He looks immensely entertained. “I’m honored.” 

“This isn’t just for me,” you say, looking down to resume chopping onion as your face warms slightly. “It’s for—” Another remonstrative hiss from the stove, and you whip around, moving the pot off the hot part entirely. You’re a bit relieved for the excuse to face away from him. “It’s for both of us. Also, I just want to provide a disclaimer right now that I never said I was good at cooking, only that I knew how.” 

James’ laugh rumbles behind you, just as you knew it would. He’s too easy. You can practically feel the force of his smile hitting your back, like the sunshine brought inside. 

“Here,” he says, taking a couple of steps toward you, “let me help.” 

“No!” You whirl again, stopping him before he can actually enter the kitchen. “No way. James, I’m trying to do something nice.” 

“And it is very nice,” he says, earnest. “It just seems like you could use a hand.” 

“I’ve got it,” you insist. Your hands are up to ward him off, but you put them at your sides when you realize how close they’re hovering to his chest. “It doesn't count as doing something for you if you do it yourself. Anyway, you’re incapacitated.” 

“I’m…” James looks confused, but then he glances down to his icing shoulder. “Oh, come on. I’m hardly immobilized.” 

“For all intents and purposes, you are.” You do your best to infuse your voice with conviction. You’ve found that’s usually the way with James. If you show any hesitation, he’ll turn on the charm and have you eating out of his hand before you know what’s happened. You herd him away from the kitchen. “Go sit down. Dinner will be ready soon.” 

You can’t help but be aware of him as you finish up, knowing he has to hear the sizzling when you accidentally spill things onto the stove or the one mumbled curse you’re not quick enough to bite back. All evidence that you’re not nearly as practiced a cook as James. You can practically feel his grin from a room over. Still, when it's done you’re fairly proud of yourself. 

James is beaming as he accepts his bowl. He hikes his knees up so you can pass between the couch and the coffee table, making a show of sniffing the steam rising from the food. 

“Is this risotto?” he asks, waiting for your little nod before his mouth drops open in astonishment. “You are so sneaky! I didn’t know you could cook at all, let alone fancy shit like this.” 

“It’s not that hard to make.” You look down at your fork as you raise it to your lips, blowing. 

“Sure it is! Loads of people have a hard time with it.” 

“Do you?” 

James grins, caught. You feel your own smile tugging at your lips as you take a bite.

He follows suit, forking a bit of the risotto and blowing to cool it before taking it in his mouth. His eyes dip closed, head lolling back, and he moans. 

“Oh my god, this is good. I’m never cooking again, now that I know you can do this.” 

You take another bite to avoid a response. You’re fairly sure the heat from your face could power the apartment for a month. 

James makes a few more over-the-top compliments of your culinary skills, which you deflect as best you can. As always, you eat mostly silently while he chatters, but when you look over your attention gets snagged on his shoulder. 

He’s only using the one hand to eat, bowl resting in his lap while you hold yours up closer to your face. His ice pack sits beside him now that he can’t hold it on anymore. You catch yourself gnawing on the inside of your lip. 

“Does it hurt?” you ask. 

James looks over, following your gaze. “Yeah,” he admits. “Nothing I’m not used to, though.” 

You feel your eyebrows pinch. “You get hurt often?” 

He smiles bemusedly. “It’s rugby, love. Getting a bit roughed up is part of the deal.” 

This doesn’t sit right with you. Though you hadn’t pondered it much before, you realize you’ve sort of been thinking of James, with his muscles and constant smiles and easygoing manner, as somewhat invincible. He seems like such a source of light in the world, it hadn’t occurred to you that anything bad could happen to him. You don’t like the idea of him being hurt. In any capacity. 

You realize this is likely playing out on your face when you notice James watching you. His eyes are soft. “As much as I would love to milk this for attention and maybe a sponge bath,” he says, setting his fork in his bowl, “it’s really not that bad. See?” 

He pulls down the sleeve of his shirt, and the effort to placate you is wasted. You take in a quiet, horrified gasp at the deeply colored bruise on James’ shoulder. One of your hands raises as if to touch it. It hovers in the space between you. 

“That’s not that bad?” you look at James in alarm. “It looks broken.” 

“It’s not,” he laughs. It’s a bit awkward, as close to self-conscious as you’ve ever seen him. “Trust me, I’ve had a couple broken bones in my time. It’s only bruised, and the muscle’s a bit strained.” 

The muscle, you’re noticing now, is quite substantial. Your focus is on the bruise, but the shoulder beneath it is eye-catching as well, hefty and taut-looking, presumably from the strain. That, or James is flexing. 

You raise your gaze quickly to his. Brown eyes tinged with smugness. 

“You’re worried about me.” His lips stretch into a grin. Not your favorite one in his arsenal. “Aw, sweetheart, I love you too.” 

You direct your attention back to your food, face hotter than hot. “I have justification for worry,” you say, the teasing tone you were going for undercut by the unintentional softness of your voice. “You’re voluntarily participating in a sport that seems like it’s trying to kill you.” 

James takes a self-satisfied bite of his risotto. “I don’t know, I was pretty worried when you fainted in my arms last week.” 

You side-eye him suspiciously. “I didn’t actually do that.” 

“Guess you’ll never know.” 

[mingtinys]

" you should rest "

pairing : choi seungcheol x gn!reader

"13 ways to say "i love you" with seventeen"

warnings : language

word count : 0.5 k

a/n : super super excited to be doing this little mini-series starting off with seungcheol !!

You're rudely awoken from your slumber by the slamming of brakes and Seungcheol throwing curses at the car in front of him. Your seat belt stops your momentum, though you can't say the same about your poor suitcases and bags in the back seat that tumble forward with a violent thud.

"Fucking idiot," he mutters, then looks over to you with a complete change of expression. "Are you okay?" He's still got his arm extended over your chest like a mother.

"I'm okay, are you?"

"Yeah," he sighs, letting his arm drop from its protective position in favor of resting his hand on your inner thigh. He squeezes ever so lightly in an attempt to ground himself. "Asshole cut me off and then slammed his brakes. I'm sorry to wake you."

You hum, reaching out to brush back his bangs from his eyes. A fond smile lights up his features at the gesture. "S'okay. How much longer do we have left?"

"About an hour or so."

An hour!?

"Cheol!" You scold, shuffling to sit up in your seat. "You were supposed to wake me up an hour ago to switch off!"

If there was only an hour left that meant he'd been driving for nearly three already. You only meant to nap during his half of the drive to your parents' house then you would finish the rest so he could get some sleep. You even made him promise about three times over to wake you up, but it seems that went unheard.

He just shrugs and steals a glance at you, that signature pout playing at his lips. "I don't mind. Besides, you've seemed stressed lately, I figured you could use the extra rest."

Admittedly, the extra shut-eye was pretty nice. But still, you wish he would've woken you. "I appreciate it, but I'll feel guilty if you take the whole drive. Pull over and we'll switch off for the last bit."

Stubborn as always, Seungcheol shakes his head. "I'll take care of everything, you should rest." There's honestly no arguing with him over stuff like this. So you just sigh and grumble about conquering the trip back on your own to make up for it. Seungcheol just chuckles at your dissent. "You're too cute."

You curl up in your seat once more, turning so you can admire glare at your boyfriend who's a little too happy with himself. He notices, and the way his lips crack into a smile is irritatingly adorable. Seungcheol reaches his arm to the back, fishing out his coat that had been buried under your multitude of travel bags. Placing it over your legs, he steals another lingering glance.

"You're not forgiven yet, I'm still mad at you." It's probably the least threading sentence you've ever uttered in your life. Your voice sounds whiney, even to you, and that really makes Seungcheol laugh.

"I know, baby. Sweet dreams."

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Life is like a Box of Chocolates || LandOscar

Summary: When you take an edible chocolate with your boyfriends it has an unexpected side effect. Warnings: 18+ only, edibles, smut, oral (both), mmf. WC: 2. 3k

The box looked inconspicuous enough. 

Oscar turned the packaging over and read through the ingredients while you and Lando opened three individually wrapped treats. They looked like any other boutique chocolate you had tried but this one promised more than a sugar high. 

“Bottoms up,” Lando said with a grin. 

You tapped your square of chocolate against his with a reciprocal smile. “I hope so.” 

You both bit into the treats and moaned at the decadent richness that coated your tongue. You couldn’t even taste the drug that would absorb slowly into your system, leaving you with a long lasting high that would surely make the boring dinner party better. 

“Oh my god, that was so good!” you hummed as you licked your fingers clean and found Lando had finished his too. 

Oscar chuckled as he saw a spot of chocolate in the corner of Lando’s lips and kissed it clean before grabbing his own piece. “We normally take half.”

“You’ve never been to this event before, trust me, you’ll need a whole one,” Lando assured him, taking the chocolate and guiding it to Oscar’s parted lips himself. 

Your body started to heat in response to the small sounds Oscar made as Lando fed him. “Why are you two teasing me? You know we don’t have time to play before the car gets here.”

Reluctantly, Oscar pulled away and swallowed his mouthful before returning to pack up the box. He opened the box again and put the few remaining wrappers back in, before noticing the instruction booklet under the tray. “Uh, guys, I don’t think this was weed,” he mutters.

“What do you mean?” Lando said with a laugh. “This is the box Daniel said to get.”

“Wait, Danny?” You hoped you hadn’t heard correctly. “The same Danny who has been trying to get back at you for the prank in Vegas?”

Lando laughed and shook his head, but realisation seemed to slowly dawn on his face and he snatched the box out of Oscar’s hands. His eyes scanned across the page of tiny disclaimers until it fluttered with his shaking hands. 

“What did you give us, Lando?” you asked as you looked between both of your boyfriends. “Osc?”

“Okay, so, don’t panic,” Oscar’s words immediately made your heart start pumping faster and he pulled you into his arms to draw soothing circles over your back. “It’s fine, baby. You might just feel a little…”

“What?”

“Horny,” Lando answered for him before he couldn’t suppress his laugh any longer. “I’m going to get him for this.”

“You don’t sound very worried,” you said to Lando before looking at Oscar. Obviously, he was never one to worry so he just shrugged.

“I’ll take care of you if you need it,” he promised.

—

“I can’t tell if this is the chocolate or me,” you grumbled as you sat between your boyfriends in the backseat of the car. Your hands gripped their thighs in an effort to keep them from roaming any higher, but it was a losing battle. 

“That’s just you, baby, it said it could take an hour to kick in,” Lando said, fiddling with his tie again. “Why do these have to be so tight?”

“He says it like he didn’t asked to be choked last night,” Oscar chuckled, reaching over your shoulder to tuck the tie back under his collar. “Now relax.”

“That was the plan,” Lando said with a roll of his eyes. “I’m going to fucking kill Danny.”

“Worry about that later, we’re here.”

You accepted Oscar’s hand and stepped out after him to the flash of cameras. It was hard not to feel inadequate when you were standing beside two of the most handsome men you had ever met, but when they curled their arms around your waist and whispered sweet words the worry fell away. 

“You look so beautiful, darling,” Lando said softly as he brushed his lips over your cheek. “I’m having a hard time keeping this PG-13.”

Oscar caught his finger under Lando’s chin and turned his hungry eyes away from you. “Stop looking at each other like that, you’re not the only one having a hard time,” he groaned. You couldn’t help glancing down his body but the black suit pants hid the ‘hard time’ he was growing in them. “Stop looking at me like that,” he warned. 

“I can’t help that I am infatuated with you two,” you said innocently, a sweet smile drawing his attention to your kissable lips. “Tsk, tsk, stop looking at me like that, Osc. Have some self control.”

Lando laughed and led you away from Osc as he tipped his head back with a silent prayer to survive the evening with his brats. When he had his composure back, he scanned the area for you but in those short seconds you and Lando had disappeared into the busy venue. “Fuck,” he groaned before beginning his search.

The crowd of businessmen swallowed you whole and it was only Lando’s hand that kept you from being swept away as he followed the bodies into the venue. His stiff back that you tucked in behind was the only outward sign that he hated the event but it was a night that couldn’t be avoided as McLaren needed investors to continue its growth. 

“Drink, love?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Only if it’s strong,” you winked. He smirked before suddenly changing direction and towing you towards the bar. “Shit!”

Lando turned quicker than your eyes could follow and he was glaring at the shocked stranger who stared at the damp splash in your dress. It would have made you laugh if the dress wasn’t worth more than your monthly pay and currently freezing from the icy drink that now decorated your bodice. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there,” the man apologised. 

“You didn’t see her?” Lando asked in disbelief. He couldn't understand how anyone could miss the most beautiful person in the room. 

“It-it’s just water,” he stammered as he reached to brush the water drops away but Lando caught his wrist before he could touch you. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I wasn’t paying attention,” you said as you peered around for the bathrooms before spotting the arrow pointing down a hall. “Come on, Lan.”

“Watch where you are going next time,” Lando imparted the advice as he turned with you, feeling your elbow nudge into his ribs at the attitude. “What? There is no way he didn’t see you. Everyone else can’t take their eyes off you.”

You rolled your eyes at the idea and stepped into the room as he opened the door for you. “It’s you they are staring at,” you corrected.

He slipped inside the powder room behind you and checked the attached room for the toilet was empty before he attacked. His lips threatened to ruin your makeup as he pinned you between his body and the wall, grinding himself along your front until your eyes fluttered shut. “You don’t see what I do,” he murmured between his heated kisses to your neck. His hand ran up your thigh, finding the slit in the dress so it could climb higher and brush the edge of your panties. “So fucking sexy and everyone knows you’re mine.”

A throat cleared and your eyes flew open to see Oscar leaning back against the door, an amused smirk on his lips as he watched the show unfold. “Yours?” he taunted as he snapped the lock into place.

“Ours,” Lando accentuated with his usual sass that had Oscar pushing off from the door and crossing the distance in two long strides. 

Desire was pooling at your core as you watched Oscar’s hand envelope Lando’s throat and pull him closer. Their lips collided with a fierce need to determine dominance and Lando tried to fight it before he succumbed to Oscar with a moan. Satisfied, Oscar pulled back to see Lando’s pupils blown out and a breathy whimper escaped his swollen lips. 

“You are both mine,” Oscar clarified before his eyes danced over your body and noticed the wet material. “What happened?”

“Some idiot spilt his drink on her.”

Oscar grabbed a hand towel from the shelf and started to dab away as much moisture as he could but every brush of the material sent little bolts of lightning across your body. Suddenly it felt like your body was on fire and you bit your lip as the flames reached your core.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned as the last touch caught the underside of your beast and it felt heavy with need. “Do that again, please.”

Lando was feeling the same heated effects course through his veins as the chocolates reacted with his body. “I think it’s been an hour,” he chuckled, reaching for the stiff peak he could see pressing against the thin material of your dress. He brushed the back of his knuckles over your nipple and hummed at the sound you made for him. 

Oscar abandoned the cloth and sank to his knees on the tiles. He swore he could smell your sweet arousal, the mouthwatering scent driving him insane as he bunched your dress up and kissed your core over the lace. The ax of time hung over your head as you all knew the dinner was about to begin but you didn’t care  the moment you looked down at Oscar’s eyes. 

“Just a quickie,” he agreed as he read your mind. Lando crushed his lips against yours as Oscar pushed your panties aside and tasted you with a languid swipe of his tongue. One boyfriend made you cry out and the other stole the sound with his kiss. Your hands tangled their hair, feeling the different textures between your fingers as you deepened the kiss and rocked your hips against Oscar’s face.

“Fuck,” Lando groaned at the pretty sight. “I’m so unbelievably hard right now.” He grabbed your hand to prove his words and you stroked his length over his trousers. “I don’t know if I want to kill Danny anymore.”

Oscar laughed against your clit and the vibration curled your toes in your heels and you cried out at the sensation. The sound cut through Lando’s amusement and his belt snapped open, his trousers falling just enough to free his cock. Your hand wrapped around him and he covered your hand with his, guiding you up and down in long slow strokes. 

“We are going to make a mess of your dress, baby,” Lando moaned as he felt his orgasm coming embarrassingly quickly thanks to the chocolate. You barely heard him as your own impending release hazed your mind but Oscar thought quick enough to pull away. Your body missed his mouth instantly but your cunt clenched at the sight of him taking Lando’s cock deep in his throat. “Fuck, Osc, that’s it, babe.”

You could hardly breathe as you watched Lando’s jaw clench and he shuddered as he spilled himself in Oscar’s mouth. Your boyfriend’s throat bounced as stood up and he swallowed the mouthful down, leaving Lando to sag against the wall while he recovered. 

“You missed a spot,” you said as you leant in and caught the drop of cum that clung to the corner of his lips. A soft hum reverberated as you shared the taste with a kiss and you pressed yourself against him to feel just how much he was feeling the drug too. “Need a hand?”

“Not quite,” he smirked, turning you around to face Lando. “Hold on.”

Lando reached out and you gripped his forearms as Oscar bundled your dress up in one hand and pushed your panties aside again with the other. He gave no warning before he sheathed himself deep inside your cunt and you buried your face in Lando’s chest with a gasp. You felt impossibly full before he snapped his hips back and then buried himself in you, over and over, an unrelenting pace that quickly brought back the edge of your orgasm.

Your cries were muffled by Lando’s dress shirt and your nails threatened to rip the expensive jacket he wore as you were rocked by your release that came so suddenly white spots danced across your vision. For a second your body was disconnected from your mind and the two only collided back together when Oscar joined you, warmth pooling in your core as he filled it with his seed. 

“Wooow,” Oscar chuckled as he pulled out and combed a hand through his hair. “That shit is strong.”

“At least we have something to take the edge off,” Lando said, before tossing the hand towel to Oscar. Oscar ran the towel under the warm tap and carefully cleaned up the mess he made before he pulled your panties back into place and let your dress fall around your unsteady legs. 

Oscar curled a brow at his boyfriend and the glint in his eye that said he expected a few more stops to this room during the night. “Let’s try to make it back to the hotel next time.”

“No promises,” he said with a wink. “Now, shall we go and sit through a bunch of old man speeches and try not to fall asleep?”

You looked down at your dress and found the wet patch had dried considerably, so much that it wouldn’t even be noticeable in the dim lights of the hall. “You still owe me a drink.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lando gave you a salute and unlocked the door, opening it to an empty corridor. “A strong one. Osc?”

“No, thank you, one of us has to be responsible.”

Lando looked at you, his lips barely suppressing the grin on his face. “He says it like he didn’t just fuck you in a bathroom.”

[starkwlkr]

fever dream | sebastian vettel

part 2 part 3

warnings: toxic soon to be ex husband who cheats on reader (if i miss anything, let me know!!)

update: i decided to make this into a series, thanks for reading!! you can read it here!

AN: THIS SAYS THAT SEB AND THE READER WERE TEAM MATES FOR 2014 AND 2015 THATS A MISTAKE SORRY I ONLY MEANT TO PUT 2014 😭

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lewishamilton roscoe and i miss you more

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“luke, alison! your aunt y/n is here!” your sister yelled as she opened the door to her home. in a matter of seconds, loud footsteps were heard running down the stairs. “no running!”

but still the kids didn’t listen, they were excited to see their aunt. “hey, my babies! oh my god, you two have grown so much. stop growing!” you hugged your niece and nephew.

“i’m almost as tall as mom!” alison, the younger sister, said.

“liar, that’s just what dad says to make you feel better. i’m going to grow more than you and then i’ll be taller than you.” luke teased.

“you both can be tall, but never as tall as me.” you joked as you placed a kiss on their cheeks.

“are you going to stay with us forever?” alison asked innocently. “dad said that you don’t want to stay with your husband anymore and you’re going to stay with us.”

“alison!”

the truth was hard for little kids to understand. yes, you were going to stay with your sister for a few days and yes, you didn’t want to stay with your husband anymore, but it was a bit more complicated than that. your husband had cheated, lied, manipulated you and you had enough. he was the reason you couldn’t come back to the sport you loved and worked your whole life for.

“well i am going to be staying here, but not forever. i just needed a break from him, it’s normal.” you tried to explain to the girl.

“but my mom and dad don’t take breaks?”

“alison, just go to your room, you too luke, please. dinner is going to be ready in an hour.” your sister said, feeling embarrassed that alison would ask those questions.

“what did i do?” the older boy whines as he and his sister walked up to their rooms.

“i’m sorry. i spoke to jack the night you called. we were cleaning up the table after dinner, i assume she heard.” your sister explained.

“it’s okay, they’ll understand when they’re older. not everyone is cut out to be loved . . .”

or a mother.

only a few people had known about your issues with infertility, your sister and lewis being two of them. after you retired from f1, you were sure that in a couple months, you were going to be busy with doctor’s appointments, buying baby clothes and building a crib, but none of that happened. after a year of trying, you were convinced you weren’t meant to be a mom.

you thought about returning to the track, after all many drivers returned after saying they were retiring, why couldn’t you? but that plan was spoiled by the man you thought loved you.

“you can’t go back, you don’t belong there. it’s a man’s sport. you’re probably going to crash in the first lap anyways.”

you didn’t know why you stayed with him, but you did. maybe it was the promises he kept telling you about or the hopefulness that one day you would become parents and maybe he would change. but again, none of that happened.

“um, i have to call someone. i’ll be right back. excuse me.” you told your sister as you walked to the patio door and exited the house. without hesitating, you clicked on a familiar contact. you held your phone against your ear and waited for the person on the other end to pick up. it felt like forever, but eventually they picked up the call.

“hello?”

[domuspeccati]

Day 13 : I Love This Place

Ft. Ahn Yujin

Kink : Stuck In Wall

“A little help!” Yujin shouts. She reaches for her phone, but it’s just out of reach. Not wanting to draw any more attention to herself, she waits to see if anyone offers any assistance. Yujin’s arms can only reach so far.

She sees her phone on the ground. As if it’s taunting her, it slides a little bit more out of arm’s reach. Yujin huffs and stands up. She tries her best to not get her legs tangled with anyone else’s on the way to her phone. “Excuse me,” Yujin says. She narrowly avoids one man’s foot, shifting to the side to step over it.

So far, her day hasn’t been too kind to her. Yujin has seen a drunk man harass a woman, she’s been bumped into, which made her drop her phone the first time, and she’s been stuck on this subway for the better part of half an hour.

Yujin, at long last, reaches her phone. She bends down to pick it up. “Gotcha,” she remarks under her breath. The girl clutches the phone and makes her way back to her seat. After hurdling the same pairs of feet from the spot where the phone rested back to the seat, Yujin sits down and breathes easier now that her phone is back in her possession.

The mobile device chirps. Yujin checks the message. “Oh great,” she mutters. “What could he possibly want?” Yujin reads the message mentally and a long sigh escapes her mouth. “I’m gonna be late,” the first message reads. “I know we have that project at work, but I can’t make it because traffic is a nightmare. I’ll try to be there as soon as possible. If you get there before me, work a little bit on it.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. The lethal combination of reactions would be enough to set anyone off. Knowing that she’s on a tight schedule, Yujin composes a message. “Okay then,” the first message reads. “I’m on my way right now. After I get there, I’ll cover for you.” Yujin sends the message and puts her phone back into her pocket.

Yujin sits patiently in her seat. Waiting for the stop where she gets off has never felt longer. She hopes that this ride will be over in the foreseeable future. She knows that this ride will only last a few more minutes, but to her, that’s an eternity.

The minutes pass in relative silence. Yujin listens to the occasional noises coming from the other passengers. Once the ride comes to a stop, she stands up and gathers her belongings. Yujin bows and apologizes for her outburst while heading for the exit. Once she’s at the exit, she leaves without a second thought.

The doors close behind her and she’s sent on her way. Yujin exits the station, walking up the stairs to ground level. She emerges onto street level and takes a brief look around. The area, which is practically engraved in her mind, makes the last leg of the journey easier.

She begins her walk to the office. Yujin keeps to herself, trying to balance it out after her outburst on the ride here. She tries to forget that instead focusing on the walk to her office. Yujin rounds the corner and this starts the longest straight walk of the entire day. No turns for the last few blocks, which definitely makes things a little easier on her.

Yujin tries to make her walk as easy as possible. The ride was emotionally taxing, so it still lingers in her mind. She tries to shake it, but her embarrassing moments always stick with her. “I need a drink,” she tells herself. “Or something.”

As she’s lost in her thoughts, Yujin bumps into a man. “Watch it!” You bark. Seeing that the girl meant no harm, you relax and open your mouth to speak again. “Looks like you’ve seen a fucking ghost. Speak.” You wait for a response and examine the girl who is dressed in formal attire.

She shakes her head. “I’m fine,” she tells you. “Really.” Yujin tries to walk around you, but you don’t budge. “I really do have somewhere to be. I have this thing at work that desperately needs to be done.”

You smile at her and nod understandingly. “Well, can I interest you in something?” you ask her. “A pretty girl like yourself surely has needs or something.”

Yujin clicks her tongue. “I’m gonna stop you right there.” She puts one hand on your chest and pushes you gently. “I have to get to work. Anything else can wait.” Yujin then removes her hand from your chest and walks past you. She doesn’t want anything else to get in the way today.

“You don’t understand.” You grab Yujin’s hand. “It’s not just a hookup.” Your hands pull her closer, begging her to listen to you. Seeming like you’re begging for her attention, you let Yujin’s hands go. “You look to be in need of a little stress relief and I’ve had a long night. We should make ends meet.”

She shakes her head. Thinking about it for a moment, Yujin doesn’t move a single muscle. She then shrugs and stares at you. “Well, I don’t see a problem with it,” she tells you. “It’s not the first hookup. Won’t be the last one either.”

You smile, pleased with yourself. “Right this way then,” you instruct her. As Yujin follows you, you lead her into a dark alley. Once you make it to the end of the alley, you point to a door on the right. “It’s in this building. Just stick close to me and we’ll make sure that you have an absolute blast.”

Yujin sees the smile on your face. She doesn’t normally trust people who lead her into secluded areas, but she makes an exception. “Could’ve been anyone.” Yujin looks up at you and says it again. “It could’ve been anyone. Why am I the girl who gets asked? There’s surely other women on that stretch of road who are in need of a little bit of stress relief.”

You nod. “There was one earlier.” Your admission makes her look even more confused. You then open the door and both of you walk in. The strong smell of sweat hits you. You can tell that the smell is a little much for Yujin. “You just look like you don’t get enough relief.”

She laughs. “I can’t deny that,” she confesses. Yujin’s eyes meet the eyes of another man. “It smells like a gym here. Why did it have to be here?” Her question hangs in the air.

“There’s a simple answer.” You usher Yujin into an available side room. “I like my clientele to be in similar businesses.” Once you’re in the room, you close the door behind her. “Go over to that wall there.”

Yujin laughs. “Are you kidding?” she asks you. Her eyes lock onto the hole in the wall. “Let me guess…” Yujin releases a deep sigh. “There’s another cock on that side of the wall.” Yujin removes her blazer. “I’m not a huge fan of being shared. That’s something that I leave to my colleagues.”

You run your fingers through Yujin’s hair. “That’s a great idea.” You walk over to the hole in the wall and peep through it. “There’s no one on the other side. Considering that’s where we keep lube for the anal freaks, I’d be surprised if anyone found comfort in that cramped space.”

As you step away from the wall, Yujin realizes that she has no choice other than to trust you. Yujin puts her blazer on the seat next to the hole. She then picks her bag up and places it on the blazer. The girl moves closer to the wall and bends down. Yujin sticks her head through the hole in the wall.

You get a good view of Yujin’s ass. The pants surely don’t do it justice. To make sure that everything is good to go, you grab her pants and yank them down to her knees. “Nice choice of panties,” you tell her as you grab them.

Yujin tries to look back at you but remembers that her head is through the wall. “I made sure that you’d like them,” she jokes. Once her panties are pulled down, she feels your hands on her bare asscheeks. Yujin moans softly and then realizes that you’re going to take full advantage of the situation.

Not caring about being late to work anymore is relieving for her. Yujin sighs, happy that she’ll soon get the relief that she needs. Yujin attempts to position herself, but she realizes that you are holding her in place.

“The lucky man gets to decide,” you tell her. With that, you push Yujin closer to the wall. You put your back into it, shoving the girl by pressing against her shapely ass. Once you get her into the desired position, you move your hands away from the girl’s backside and grab the zipper of your pants.

Yujin attempts to wiggle. “This is a little uncomfortable!” she calls out. Yujin attempts to move again, but she’s genuinely stuck in place. “I’m stuck now? You want me to be a cocksleeve this badly?”

You laugh and unzip your pants. “Truth be told, I had a good look at your frame.” You take your cock out and place it on Yujin’s bare ass. “I knew that your body would be perfect for this hole, so I had to think about which room would give a tight squeeze but not so tight that it hurts you.”

She places her hands on the wall that’s touchable through the other end of the hole. “It’s just enough to where it doesn’t feel like I’m having my guts squeezed out.” Yujin knows that exaggerating won’t get her anywhere, but she tries to ease the discomfort by making a joke.

“You can get out whenever you want,” you tell her. “I see how wide the hole is and, if you really wanted to, you could escape right now.” Your tip pushes into Yujin’s pussy. “You don’t want to leave yet though, do you?”

Yujin moans as your cock is inserted into her. “I definitely don’t!” She feels her breedable hole get stretched by your length as it pushes inside. When the thrusting begins, Yujin looks down at the floor, focusing her efforts straight down so her neck doesn’t get any pain from focusing elsewhere.

You start to fuck Yujin like you mean it. The bucking of your hips is similar to that of a man who hasn’t seen his lover in weeks. There is desperation in your thrusts. It’s a desperation in the sense of wanting to fill this sexy girl to the brim with your seed.

She gets wetter when your thrusting pattern gets into place. Upon finding the most comfortable position for her hands, Yujin surrenders to you. She never imagined that being stuck would be so arousing to her, but something about the willing helplessness just turns her on like never before.

The sensation of using Yujin is a very arousing one. You never thought that a girl in a suit would be hiding such a good ass. You haven’t even had a look at her chest, but you figure that you’ll save that for next. Your cock is doing everything to make sure that she enjoys it so much that there will be a next time.

Yujin’s pussy juices drip onto the floor. Now that she’s soaking your rod with her wetness, she realizes just how enjoyable you really are. Yujin relaxes, letting you dictate the pace while she makes herself comfortable in her fuckable position.

You can’t see Yujin’s face but you know that she is having the time of her life. Based on how her pussy is constricting around your length to give you something to work for, you can tell that the stuck girl wants you to have as much fun as you want. “Enjoying yourself?” You ask Yujin.

She nods, knowing that you can’t see her. Yujin then gives a response that comes in the form of her shaking her ass. “I’m having a great time,” she moans. “FUCK!” Yujin screams when your cock hits the right spot. 

As you pound her tightness over and over, you feel her reacting well to the thrusts. Yujin’s body is going to make sure that you spill every last drop of your load into her. You smack her ass and watch the skin ripple. Her squeal can be heard through the hole in the wall, which pleases you even more.

Yujin realizes that she can’t contain herself. She knows that she’ll be cumming all over the place in a few minutes. She tells herself that she’s trying to hold on, but a quick change of pace removes that thought from her mind.

You grip Yujin’s hips and speed up. The new rhythm is easily found by you and you use it to your advantage. “You’re so wet,” you moan. As you keep laying pipe in Yujin, your cock throbs. The sensation triggers you in a positive way and you reach around her with one hand, snaking the fingers between the wall and the front side of her body to reach down and play with her clit.

All of the touching is unbearable. Yujin shudders in anticipation. Finding it hard to stay still, Yujin clenches her fists and presses them against the well. The girl’s sexual frustration of days and weeks past fades away with the simple motions of your rod going into her, coming out of her, and going back in again.

Yujin’s orgasm creeps ever closer. The impending spray of juices is the only thing on her mind. Unbothered by work, unbothered by being shoved in a wall, and unbothered by being fucked by a man who she met barely a handful of minutes ago, Yujin enjoys the steady usage of her vagina. She feels it coming and there is nothing that she can do to stop it. All she’s able to do is tell you.

“SHIT, I’M CUMMING!” Yujin screams. She closes her eyes as her body begins to shake. Yujin feels her strong orgasm as the pleasure hits her all at once. Her legs shake and she struggles to stand up, her juices splashing onto the wall and the floor. As she cums, she realizes that your cock is no longer in her.

Unsure if she pushed it out or if you pulled out without telling her, Yujin’s pussy releases even more of her nectar. The girl smacks the wall with her fists, denting the other side from the power of her hits. “GOD, IT FEELS AMAZING!”

You watch Yujin, enjoying her sexual spasms. Once the orgasm is done with, you reward her pussy with a few smacks from your cock. You then slap her folds with your hand, the fingers smacking the wetness and making it splatter even more. “That was more powerful than most of the girls who visit here.”

Yujin chuckles. “Tell me about it,” she jokes. The girl tries to catch her breath, but the raspiness will only last longer. Yujin is impaled by your cock once more while she recovers from her orgasm.

You know that yours will be coming soon as well. You always want to make the most out of a perfect opportunity, so you fuck her like your life depends on it. “That’s it,” you tell her. “Bring me over the edge.” You slap her ass and watch it ripple again as her body reacts to your touches and prodding.

She is leaking at this point. Her juices continue to flow, making her pussy like a Slip ‘N Slide. You continue to batter Yujin’s entrance, hammering with your cock to hit the depths. You then move your hips back and prepare for a change in thrusting.

Your cock is pushed back in, albeit with a little less depth than it just had. You don’t go balls deep, instead choosing to fuck her with almost your entire shaft but not quite the whole thing. A few more moments of this would surely send you skyrocketing into a state of bliss, but you figure that it’s worth it to fill Yujin.

You place both hands on her waist. As you grip her, you keep fucking Yujin and letting the warmth and wetness consume you. You can tell that her pussy is hungry and you don’t want to keep it waiting any longer.

Yujin feels you jackhammer her pussy. She braces for impact, looking back at the floor once more. Yujin’s preparations aren’t enough and she realizes this as you fuck her as hard and fast as possible. “Cum for me,” she begs, biting her lip while waiting for the feeling of a massive load inside of her.

With a groan, you unleash your load. Your hands leave Yujin’s waist as the seed spills into her and you thrust slowly but keeping the same depth. You fuck her while your hands stay off of her body.

Each thrust brings in more semen. You then grab the girl and pull her closer to you, letting the cum be shot deep inside. After a handful of hip thrusts, you leave your cock all the way in her to shoot the last rope. The final bit of your ejaculate comes out and the rod twitches, signaling a job well done.

Yujin feels you pull out of her. She mumbles something under her breath in Korean as your tip emerges from between her lower lips. The girl pants hard like she just had the most vigorous exercise of her life. “Can I get out?”

You think for a moment. “Maybe I should leave you here,” you tell Yujin. You laugh and grab something to clean your cock. After cleaning your rod with her asscheeks, you put the shaft away. Your pants are zipped and you turn away from her while attempting to find a good answer for Yujin’s question.

“You could always stay here for a day.” You smack Yujin’s ass and grab her bag. “I could text your boss to tell you that you’re taking a day off.” Your hands then put her bag back down. “Just get back to work. I do have a condition for you.”

Yujin takes herself out of the wall. “What is it?” she asks you. Once she’s standing up straight, she walks over to her bag. She lifts it and grabs her blazer. Yujin puts the blazer back on and buttons it before putting her bag back over her shoulder. “I am already gonna be like half an hour late,” she says.

You turn back to her and point to the door. “Your condition is actually very simple.” You lean down to whisper in Yujin’s ear. “I want you to do me a favor. The next time that you’re horny, you should come here and visit me. If I’m not here, there will always be an eager cock.”

She covers her mouth while giggling. “Sure thing,” Yujin says. She grabs your crotch and walks to the door. “I’d much rather have the cock I’m familiar with. Just stand outside the door and wait for me to come to you.” Yujin opens the door and breathes softly, attempting to compose herself while she’s still in the building.

“Just give me your phone.” When she hands you her phone, you text your number. “Save me in your contacts as whatever you wanna call me.” You hand her phone back to her after adding the number to her contacts. “Now, get a move on.” You walk Yujin to the exit and keep your arm around her shoulder. “I wouldn’t want you to miss the valuable opportunity to have a story to tell.”

[jeonstudios]

dextrocardia | 13

Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.

"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."

"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.

Spouses.

pairing: cop!jk x f detective!reader

genre: undercover cops, fake marriage, e2l au, angst, fluff, (smut?)

word count: 6k

warnings: descriptions of and talk about sa!!

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 13/? 

<previous | next>

© dextrocardia is copyright jeonstudios. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

It keeps raining, and two hours later when it’s hitting the roof in a calm rhythm, you enter the garage through the open door. Rock music sounds from a speaker but it’s overshadowed by the powerful hits of Jeongguk’s gloved hands against the sandbag hanging from the mount. He’s foregone a shirt, his sweat-covered muscles glistening.

“You call that ‘taking it easy?’” you call out, notifying him of your presence.

He stops his punches, turning to face you with his hand steadying the bag.

“Huh?” he questions, chest heaving.

“I said: ‘you call that taking it easy?’”

He smiles, very out of breath. “I didn’t say ‘easy,’ just easier than what I’m used to.”

You shake your head, venturing further into the garage and reaching the bike.

“How do you even get on this thing? It’s so tall?” you wonder skeptically out loud as you trace the black leather seat with your fingers. It’s definitely a lot taller and wider than just an ordinary bicycle.

Jeongguk steps away from the sandbag, loosening the gloves with his teeth as he heads your way, heavy breaths echoing. You follow him with your eyes as he approaches, but instead of demonstrating like you thought he would, he stops behind you.

“Here,” he places his hands under your armpits.

“Oh, no, no, no,” you try to protest, but it’s too late, and you’re already being lifted onto the seat like a three-year-old.

You definitely also feel like a three-year-old because you don’t even try to reach for the handlebars, instead holding onto the little hill in front of the seat. It probably goes without saying that your feet don’t wholly touch the ground.

“We could go for a ride someday if you want?”

You turn your head to look at his grinning face.

“Uh... no.”

“What, you don’t trust me?”

You see the realization of what he just asked flash across his face, but you know it wasn’t how he meant it.

“You don’t seem to value your life very much, no,” you argue, hinting at how he almost died for you.

His face turns relieved, a small smile decorating his lips. “I do. But sometimes, there might be risks I’m willing to take.”

It’s your turn to not know exactly what to say, so you're quick to ask something else instead. You lean forward, actually managing to grab the handlebars somewhat correctly. “Do I look cool?”

Jeongguk’s smile widens, “Absolutely. Even more so if you had the appropriate gear.”

“So… highway patrol? Car or one of these things?”

“One of these things,” he chuckles. “It was exciting, especially car chases really got your blood pumping. Although I think my mom was in a constant state of a heart attack. And the chases didn’t happen that often; most of the time, it was just writing tickets, and I wanted to make more of a difference.”

“Understandable. Your mom, I mean.”

“Yeah. Also, who told you?” he narrows his eyes playfully.

“Jimin. He told me absolutely everything there is to know about you. All your secrets.”

“Nice try; I don’t have any secrets.”

You wonder to yourself how true that really is.

You’ve managed to keep your mind busy and occupied during the day, but when night time rolls around and the rain has only increased, you’re feeling a little anxious.

Standing outside the door to your room and staring at the handle, you don’t notice Jeongguk.

“You know, I don’t mind you sleeping with me.”

You lift your head, meeting his eyes. He’s shirtless again, looking as if he just came from the kitchen. Should you? Last night was very cozy, and if you're being honest with yourself, you liked it a lot. Probably more than you should. You felt… safer.

You hesitate.

“It’s up to you, but I’ll leave the door open.”

He prepares to leave, but you’re quick to make up your mind.

“No, I, um… I’ll just go and change, first?”

Giving you a soft nod, he leaves for his bedroom.

It takes you five minutes to change into a large t-shirt and some shorts and to wash up, and when you enter through the open door, closing it behind you, Jeongguk is folding a pair of pants to hang over a chair. You won’t pretend that you don’t let your eyes quickly skim over his shirtless body as he moves, your heart skipping a beat or maybe two.

“Is that the ring you wore during the mission?” you ask, watching him turn, first to face you and then to look at the object in question on his nightstand.

“Yeah.”

“Why did you keep it?”

He shrugs as he approaches the other side of the bed, the same side he slept on yesterday. “I don’t know. I wore it, then the hospital put it in one of those bags with my other belongings while they took me into surgery. Took the whole bag home, put the ring there. Didn’t wear it because… well, we’re not married, but I didn’t want to get rid of it.”

“Hm, okay,” you accept what sounds like a reasonable explanation.

Jeongguk lifts the duvet, getting into the bed while watching you. “You didn’t keep yours?”

“Don’t know what happened to it, but it was fake and pretty much worthless, so…”

“Ouch,” Jeongguk says, clutching his chest.

“Okay, first of all, you just said we weren’t married. And there was no material worth to it. Second, your heart is on the other side.”

Smoothly–and definitely making you giggle while you follow his lead and get into bed–he switches hands to hold the right side of his chest instead. You guess it’s a learning curve.

“Ouch,” he repeats, “Just tell me if you want a divorce.”

It’s with a big smile that you get comfortable, pulling the white duvet up to your chin as you lay on your side, facing the nightstand.

You feel Jeongguk move around a bit too.

“I think the rain’s gonna let up tomorrow,” he mumbles. “It’s been a while since it was this… persistent.”

“Yeah… Thank you for letting me sleep here. It feels… better to not be alone.”

“It’s no problem; I don’t mind.”

Silence falls after that. You listen to the rhythmic beat of raindrops hitting the roof, trying to slow your breaths and heartbeat enough to fall asleep. Although you don’t feel as anxious anymore, it still doesn’t happen. 

Minute by minute ticks by, and you don’t know if Jeongguk is asleep or not.

“It was raining,” you say, your voice barely louder than a whisper. “That night when we followed a suspect into a hotel bar.”

You take a breath, listening to the silence of the room, half expecting Jeongguk to stop you. But he doesn’t; maybe because he’s asleep? So you continue quietly, revisiting a memory.

“He stayed there for quite a few hours, so we did as well. We were hoping he’d lead us to his brother so we could arrest both of them for arms trafficking. Hoseong ordered us beer, more so for appearances, but still, and we talked while we kept an eye on the man and waited for him to leave. I remember that we talked about another case we’d just solved, and Hoseong was going on and on about how smart he thought I was and how glad he was to have me as his partner. I was smiling ear to ear, thinking that I was so incredibly lucky, getting to work with and learn from someone who truly saw me. When the suspect instead got a room there for the night, we did as well, figuring it would be more comfortable than sitting in the car all night.”

It’s still quiet, but it feels cathartic to get it out, regardless if Jeongguk is awake to hear it or not. While you've unfortunately noticed more similarities between him and Hoseong than you'd like--like their dark, expressive eyes--Jeongguk feels... different.

“We were meant to do shifts, always have the door open just a sliver so we’d notice if he left. We took our jackets off and Hoseong placed his stuff on the bedside table. Since it was summer, I was wearing a t-shirt and a skirt with my gun strapped to my thigh under it, and so I put the gun in the pocket of my jacket. When I turned around… he kissed me. I was caught by surprise, but I… I kissed him back at first because… Well, I loved him. But then I tried to step back to tell him that we really shouldn’t, that we needed to be alert and ready to follow if the suspect left. But he didn’t listen.”

You pause, feeling the pain and the fear from that day all over again, your skin turning cold. There’s movement behind you, and an arm is slowly and gently draped across your middle, grasping your freezing hand. It makes you feel something, peering down at his hand and the tattoos covering his skin. He’s very warm, and he feels like he’s… stable. Like he has roots growing into the ground that makes him unshakeable. Meanwhile, you’re a leaf; at the mercy of everyone and everything. Easy to blow away, to rip to shreds, to stomp flat to the sound of your bones crunching.

“He held my jaw so tight, I couldn’t speak, and he told me that I’d been teasing him all day in the skirt and that I should be happy because he knew that I loved him. Said I should just suck it up and put out. He… ” you go quiet, unsure of how many details you’re willing to relive. 

Does Jeongguk need to know every step you were pushed toward the bed, how he threw you onto it and got on top of you while you fought? How he unzipped his pants and how he violated you? He probably doesn’t.

“He used his handcuffs and cuffed my hands around the metal bed frame. I tried to…. He said he’d kill me if I screamed.” You remember his hushed yet furious voice in your ear, remember knowing how it was going to end, how he’d kill you right then and there.

“I don’t know if he did it at first because he enjoyed it or if he realized right away that he would need to get rid of me, but he put both his hands around my neck and squeezed as hard as he could. I pulled my hands so violently that I dislocated a thumb, but… I got one out. So I tried to stop him, but he was too strong, using all his body weight. My nails on his skin didn’t faze him, and I was losing consciousness. At the very last second–while my vision was turning spotty–I managed to grab the gun from his holster. I aimed it for his thigh and pulled the trigger. He let go. Somehow, I managed to get him off me, and… out of me… but I could barely see or breathe, and there was blood everywhere.

“He swore at me, and I think he tried to get up but couldn’t, so he reached for his phone, and I ran for the door as best I could. But what was I supposed to do? Call the cops? What do you think he was doing? I heard him ask our coworkers for help, and I knew. They were coming to help him. So I stood there, in the hall of a shitty hotel, with no car keys, no phone, and nowhere to go, while his back-up was mere minutes away.

“Then, someone down the hall opened their door. It was a young woman, and she peeked out, looked at me where I stood, a shaky, bloody, wheezy mess, and she came and pulled me inside right before the police exited the elevator. I managed to say that we were all law enforcement, but I didn’t need to tell her that they’d kill me off if they found me because we heard Ryung’s voice through the door, telling the rest to find me and make me… pay.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been as scared as I was when they knocked on her door. She gestured for me to get inside the bathroom, and I did, watching as she pulled a bathrobe around her body, turning most of the lights off and opening the door to pretend like she’d just woken up. I heard them ask for me, and I heard her politely tell them that no, she hadn’t seen a woman or noticed any commotion. But I saw how her hand trembled behind the door, and I thought the whole time that they knew and were just waiting to push their way inside to get me. But they didn’t. Instead, they left. Shaken, she sat with me on the bathroom floor as I cried, and she helped me clean up a bit and loaned me some of her clothes before she helped me to the hospital across the city border. I stayed the night to have my injuries tended to and documented and a kit done, and the next day, I went to that city’s station to file a report. A female officer helped me, and she’s the only one I’ve told most of this stuff to. Well, except for you now, but I take it you read the report? And the station… you weren’t working that day, but it was your station, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” comes a strained mumble, and you feel him hug you just a bit tighter.

You stare at the wall, feeling both anxious and numb. “It changes you, having someone do that to you. All my life, I’ve known, theoretically speaking, that there’s a risk. A man, anywho, anywhere, anytime, can decide that I don’t get to live anymore. But to experience it, to see the intentions in his eyes, and how he’s… deciding… and not being able to do anything about it. It changes you. It’s always there, the feeling of helplessness.” “I…” Sounding like he wants to say something but can’t find the words, Jeongguk lets silence fall again. 

“You don’t know what to say, do you?” you smile a sad smile to yourself. “No.” “It’s alright, you don’t need to say anything, I just thought I’d tell you.”

You feel him move closer while also gently pulling you back toward him. You roll back, finding yourself inches away from him where he lies, head supported by his hand and looking down at you. “I’m just… furious, and frustrated, and I wish so badly that I’d been there to help you. If I had just transferred earlier… maybe I could’ve prevented it, or stopped it, or even just caught him and helped you get your justice. Instead, I came along and made it worse.”

You find yourself so lost in him. In the warmth of his body that’s thawing the entirety of yours, and in his kind brown eyes. You can’t believe he’s the same person who took every chance he could to hurt you as recently as a few months ago. He just… looks so sweet.

“You know, you look like a little kid when you’re sleeping” you smile, watching Jeongguk slowly open his eyes, looking a little confused. “You’re also always up before me, so I’ve rarely seen you asleep. I’m not really a morning person.”

The moment he comes to properly, he smiles lazily and rolls his eyes half-heartedly. “I’m not a morning person either, actually,” he explains, his voice lower and raspier than usual.

“Then why are you always awake so early?”

He looks at you as if he’s not sure what to say. “Cause… I have… stuff to do?”

“Okay…”

Jeongguk doesn’t address the suspicion in your voice, instead, he stretches his arms over his head. The duvet moves, exposing his chest and the scar to your eyes.

Letting your fingertip hover just above it, you look back at his still very sleepy face. “Did you really never know about your organs being mirrored?”

“No,” he yawns. 

“But… how? Didn’t you ever have your heart and lungs listened to?”

“I did, but apparently, it’s not too much of a different sound. Sure, my heart beat would have sounded a bit fainter from my left side but it’s such a rare condition that there was no real use investigating further. I had a heart that beat in the right rhythm and no other symptoms so that was enough, I guess,” he shrugs.

“Can I listen?” you bite your lip hopefully.

He raises his eyebrows, “To my heart?”

You nod enthusiastically

“Buy me dinner first, why don’t you?”

Rolling your eyes, you feel warm. You meet his gaze and slowly lower your head to his chest while moving your hair out of your face.

His skin feels nice against the side of your face, his chest moving up and down under you slowly, and you hear it. It’s strong, rhythmic, but…

“Are you sure you’re fine, though?” you ask, turning a little more serious, “It’s beating kinda… fast?”

Surely a fit guy like Jeongguk has a slower resting heart rate? 

“You’re also, you know, listening to my heart,” he says, like it’s supposed to mean something?

Wait. Is he… Is he implying that you listening to his heart is making it race? That can’t be true, can it?

You lift your face off of his chest, and for a moment, you’re just looking at each other softly, curiously. His black hair is a little messy, but he looks so warm, and you–.

His phone rings.

Jeongguk sighs but reaches for it where it lies on his nightstand, his eyes widening when he reads the screen. “Shit, I gotta take this.”

He throws the duvet off of him and gets up as he answers the call, and you see him in just his shorts as he disappears out of the room with the phone to his ear.

Following his lead, you rise from the bed, but instead of going wherever Jeongguk disappeared to, you head into your room to throw on a hoodie and some sweatpants. While alone, you take a moment to think about last night. You weren’t actually planning on talking about it. You never have, not in that much detail, although you definitely left some things out. And while it feels… hard, it also feels… better? Or, like you’re at least not too scared of him looking at you weirdly or saying it was your fault. Or even worse, like you opened his eyes how easy it was to render you entirely helpless…

Quietly, you enter the kitchen, spotting Jeongguk standing at the counter with the tray of cupcakes you made together in front of him. He’s wearing a dark green t-shirt now.

He places the phone between his raised shoulder and ear as he peels a wrapper off, “can you ask them to mail copies of the documents to the station? And how did it go, did you manage to reach the mechanic?”

You watch him as he listens to whoever’s on the other side, putting half a cupcake in his mouth. “Mhm, no, no, just book whatever time she’s available. We can meet at the station if she wants to come in or I can go to her. Same for the hotel staff.” 

Is he… looking into your case again? Like, thoroughly following up on all leads and with all possible witnesses? You definitely know it’s not because of what you told him last night; he must’ve decided to do it priorly.

His eyes find you as he listens intently to what the voice has to say. You take a few steps, coming to stand next to him, smiling softly at how cute he looks when he’s multitasking. With one hand, he lifts the other end of the cupcake to you. You take it, watching him as he looks off into the distance absentmindedly. “Alright, thank you.”

You pop the piece into your mouth, chewing it while making a note to definitely bake more.

He ends the call and puts the phone down on the counter. “These are actually really good,” he says, putting his frosting-covered fingertip to his mouth.

You smile, admiring him and all he’s done and is doing for you. A little overcome with emotions, you place your hand on his shirt, pulling it down slowly at the collar and him toward you. He looks curious, but you focus on his lips. Biting your own, you try not to let the fear of rejection win, and you stand on your toes, and you kiss him carefully.

It’s brief, and it’s sweet, and you can’t help but smile when your heels touch the floor again.

“Thank you.”

He blinks, looking happy but surprised.

“What?” you chuckle a little nervously when he doesn’t say anything.

“Nothing. I just… wasn’t sure you actually liked me. Like, at all.”

You tilt your head, listening to him as he continues.

“I know that we kissed that time on the hammock, but we probably weren’t on the same page then, were we? Cause I thought we were, that we were alone and that we had something, but you… you played along because there were people watching, right? You were still acting while I wasn’t.”

You haven’t thought a lot about that moment, embarrassed about what happened and how you reacted, but he’s right. You were acting. You weren’t sure he was, but if he really wasn’t… What were his motives that night?

“Yeah, but you kinda literally took a sword to the heart for me later, and you’ve been really, really kind and sweet to me ever since.”

He grabs another cupcake, chewing a piece of it with a look on his face that tells you he’s… planning something. You wait, expecting him to say something but he just smiles and lifts the other piece to your mouth. Before you can even decide whether to take a bite or not, he nudges the cupcake against your mouth, getting streaks of frosting across your lips.

“What the…”

But he grins, puts the cupcake down, and smiles in a way that lets you know this was exactly what he wanted. Putting his fingers under your chin to lift your head, he leans down to kiss you. You hold your breath, feeling his soft lips against yours again.

He tastes of frosting and racing heart beats, and you’re pretty sure your cheeks are warmer than usual.

“You don’t need to thank me for that.”

And you feel warm, almost ecstatic, but also like you’ve… forgotten something.

The day after, Jeongguk receives a call that has him hurriedly looking through the house for the keys to his bike, rushing off somewhere after telling you that he’ll probably be back in a few hours. ‘A few hours’ is too vague to really tell you anything, and you’re so used to not asking questions that you don’t think to.

While he’s gone, you decide to start the dishwasher, and you’ve come to learn that Jeongguk always has at least one mug in his office that he’ll keep refilling with coffee way too many times without washing.

Approaching the office, you’re not surprised to see the door to it ajar. It’s rarely closed, and it’s almost like it signifies the transparency between you. Jeongguk doesn’t say much about the case, but it’s not because you can’t know; it’s because he knows you don’t want to know. 

Or didn’t want to know. As you’re standing in the quiet room, his blue mug in your hand, you see a disheveled stack of papers. Usually, you would’ve walked past it, or maybe even re-stacked it neatly before walking past it. 

This time, Hoseong’s name catches your eye. Of course, it’s not weird considering it’s Jeongguk’s main case, but you still find yourself staring at the printed letters. 

Three hours after he left, Jeongguk unlocks his front door, opening it and stepping inside. He sighs at how the people he despises most on the planet always just seem to slip out of his grasp. But when inside, he finds himself easily letting go of that thought and instead thinking about something that has him smiling to himself.

With his shoes and jacket off, he begins his search, expecting to find you either in the living room or your bedroom and getting confused when you aren’t. He peers inside the kitchen and even puts his head into his own bedroom, almost starting to get worried when you’re nowhere to be seen.

He’s about to visit the second bathroom when he passes his office, seeing movement from within the small sliver in the doorway.

“There you are,” he comments happily as he opens the door wider, looking around and taking a moment to process what he’s seeing. “I almost thought you’d evaporated.”

You look up from the floor, where you’re sitting with a bunch of papers spread out in front of you, Jeongguk’s empty cup beside you.

“These are the ones you’re observing?” you ask, lifting a paper toward him, a pen wedged between your index and middle finger.

He takes it from you, quickly reading a summary of months of hard work. “Mhm.”

“Okay,” you say, looking at another paper in your hand, twirling the pen absentmindedly in your other, “I think I have some suggestions.”

After spending hours and hours with Jeongguk, having him explain the progress they’ve made and who they’re investigating, you take a step back to look at the post-its on the living room wall. It has all the fugitives’ relatives, their friends, coworkers, neighbors…. everyone. Since neither of the four men have used their card nor phone, they must’ve almost certainly gotten help, but from who?

You sink down onto the soft cushions of Jeongguk’s couch with a tired sigh, reaching for the remote and smiling when there’s a rerun of a zombie movie.

Jeongguk follows your lead, spreading out as well. “You wanna like… hold hands or something? Cause I could do with a good hand-holding.”

You can’t help but let out a laugh, feeling your chest warm from the inside. It’s so easy for him to make you all giddy, forgetting about all of your pains and worries. Or almost all of them, at least.

Still, you nod, and your smile grows when he scoots closer to you and takes your hand in his warm one.

Even as he directs his focus toward the TV, you keep yours on him. On his tired yet still bright, dark eyes, his nose, the faint hollowness under his cheekbones, and his mouth. His hair is just calling out for you to run your fingers through, but you stand your ground, settling for getting to hold his hand. 

“What?” he asks, smiling cheekily at you.

“You asked to hold my hand?” you remind, moving his hand between the two of yours, tracing the veins on the back of it.

“Yeah?”

“It’s cute. You buy flowers and hold hands and open doors.”

Surely, a guy like him can’t exist, right?

“I do. Which reminds me, you were just giving my flowers away?”

He looks at you, faking hurt. Slowly, and with your heart beating hard to nourish the butterflies growing in your stomach, you intertwine your fingers with his. “I didn’t know they were from you; there was never a card or anything.”

“Fine.”

Seemingly accepting your short answer, Jeongguk watches the movie with you for a while in silence, your head coming to rest against the top of his arm. You keep his hand between yours, trying to stay cool despite how being this close to him affects you. There are definitely some sort of butterflies.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about as well?” he mumbles quietly after a while.

“No?”

“At the barbeque, the guy that you were talking to? Who was that? And what did he say?”

You search your mind for a second before it comes back to you; the tall, handsome man who approached you. “I don’t know. He said his name was Haneul, but I don’t think he lived there. I think I heard something about someone having their cousin over or something like that, so I think that was him. Don’t think I saw him again.”

“And what did he say to you? You didn’t look…. very happy.”

You recall the way he felt… off and how he wasted absolutely no time, insulting your husband and offering to take his place. You definitely remember the unfunny feeling of actually wanting to have a rude Jeongguk around just to keep Haneul away.

“Uh, he hit on me.”

“Did you say you were married?”

You scoff. “Yeah, but he didn’t seem to mind. Basically accused you of lacking in bed and offering to take your place in secret.”

“What?” Jeongguk asks, sounding surprised. “He didn’t look that ballsy to me?”

“It was before he saw how intimidating you are.”

“I’m glad it seemed like I scared him off then. If he was bothering you?”

“Yeah…”

“So why didn’t you tell me? When I asked about him? I would’ve kept an even closer eye on you.”

That, you don’t have to search your mind for. You remember very clearly how scared you were that Jeongguk would laugh. Or that he wouldn’t even believe you because after all, why would anyone hit on someone like you? Especially a man who looked like Haneul because creep or not, he was handsome. Like so often, you fill with shame. Embarrassment for who you are and how you look. It’s been surprisingly easy to not focus as much on it, but it will always be at the back of your mind, and this is just a painful reminder.

“I… didn’t think you’d believe me.”

He squeezes your hand, and you hear and feel him sigh sadly. “I’m sorry for being so mean to you and for being such an overall disappointment. I want to think that I sensed that you were scared and that’s why I kept an eye on you after and asked you about it. But I couldn’t even tell that you were afraid of me as well, so I don’t know, honestly.”

“It’s fine…”

“No, it’s not. I guess I hope your future real husband will be better than your fake one,” he jokes in an attempt to lift the mood.

“Oh. I’m not… I don’t think the possibilities of me getting married are very big.”

“Oh? Because you don’t like… men?”

You nearly snort. Honestly, yeah, all of your problems and issues could be summarized into that short sentence.

“Yeah. Unfortunately, I’m not interested in marrying a woman, but I’m not… I’ve never had a relationship of any kind with a man–that went deeper than acquaintances–which didn't leave me hurt in one way or another. And I don’t want to do that anymore.”

“I know you said your dad’s an ass, and I know what happened with Hoseong and us guys at the station, but what… If you want to talk about it, what else…?”

“Who else has hurt me, you mean? It’s complicated, I guess.” 

You look down at your intertwined hands, how Jeongguk’s looks so big between yours. 

You sigh at the memory of how… non mind-blowing your relationships have been so far. Most guys you’ve dated haven’t made even the slightest of efforts for your birthday–if they even remembered it–or to plan dates of any kind after the first honeymoon months. You’ve tried, but with many men, it feels more like they want a live-in maid, who provides sex. It's definitely a conscious effort, how you try not to match Jeongguk to what your younger self dreamed of in a man.

“You remember… at the house? When you said you loved your ex, and I laughed because you’re a man and not capable of love?”

“Yeah.”

“I think that sums it up. My dad didn’t care for my mom or me, he only returned when his new, younger girlfriends–whose bodies weren’t ruined by childbearing–grew tired of his disrespectful, old ass. He knew that she still loved him, and he took advantage of that. I guess I was a little weary around men from a young age after that, but still hopeful that there could be good men out there too. Then I started dating and noticed pretty quickly that… I wasn’t really important like I’d hoped. I wanted dates–even just a picnic in the park occasionally–and I guess I took birthday celebrations–of any kind–for granted. One guy got me a bunch of candy he knew I didn’t like, so he could eat it himself, and another guy entirely forgot it was my birthday even though his was ten days before, and I got him a relatively expensive watch he’d been wanting. One guy did take me out to eat at a pretty nice restaurant, but he was also shamelessly checking out the waitress right in front of me. I saw my friends be treated the same way, and we all just… kept trying. One of my friends was in a relationship for four years, and he was a real sweetheart; made time for her, got her flowers, gave her compliments, all that. Then she discovered he’d been cheating since day one. It wasn’t until Hoseong that I truly decided it wasn’t worth it.”

“You shouldn’t give up hope.”

“It’s easy for you to say, Jeongguk. You’re a man. Your fellow men look out for you and women still care for you. And to be honest… like I said, what happened to me… it’s not something you just move past. Wherever I go, I know that practically every man I meet on the street could decide to hurt me just because he wants to. And it would be up to him, the fate of my entire life is in the hands of every random guy I pass. If he wanted to kill me, there isn’t much I could do. Not only do I know that theoretically speaking, most of them are stronger than me and don’t care what happens to me, but I know the feeling of having it happen.”

“I understand,” he assures softly, squeezing your hand, “I didn’t mean it in a ‘get over it’ way, just that I know there are men out there who would treat you like an equal partner and who would like to do those things you described that you used to want.”

“Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know, it just isn’t worth the risk for me. Romantic love isn’t everything.”

There is still a trace of pity in the look he gives you when you smile sadly at him.

After brushing your teeth and changing into your sleepwear, you find yourself outside the door to your bedroom. The storm has passed, so you definitely should go back to sleeping in your own room.

As if he could read your mind, Jeongguk, on his way to his bedroom, slows down as he passes you. He turns, looks at you and smiles gently as he continues to back toward his door. “You don’t need an excuse, you know? If you want to sleep in your room, that’s fine, but I can’t say I’m not hoping you’ll sleep with me.”

You lift your eyebrows at him, as if to say ‘oh, really?’ He should definitely stop saying ‘sleep with me.’

He shrugs, “I like having you close.”

For half a second, you shut your eyes, realizing you have no defense against him. So you open them, sighing and dropping your shoulders before following him with some species of critter in your stomach. He chuckles.

<previous | next>

author's note: please let me know if you like it! i feel like this part was really important and it was definitely hard to write because fortunately(!!!) i have not experienced what reader has and while i did my best to portray it how i think someone could react and deal with stuff like this, at the end of the day, i don't actually know and i'd hate if it comes off as wrong or glamorizing in any way. if it does, that is 1000% not my intention. on a lighter note; this is very much a calm before a storm lol

[verinarin]

How Ratio handles his reckless partner during a mission

I wrote this as a character study to better understand and illustrate how he treats people he respects and trusts (*´꒳`*)

So fluffiest fluff ever; in Ratio’s standards ofc

Please tell me if you guys want a part 2 of this ٩( ᐛ )و

Part Two ψ(｀∇´)ψ - Part Three (о´∀`о)

Support me on Ko-fi ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

“I often wonder how does the IPC’s HR department handles the recruitment process,” he sighs as he walks towards your body slumped to the floor as a result of your trademarked clumsiness

He stood there beside you waiting for you to sprung back to life like you usually do “How rude, for your information I aced my test,” you huff as you dust off your hands

“Is that so ?,” he replies candidly, he continues to leave you behind without much thought, he knows you possess some qualities that’s befitting for a investor but still you’re too clumsy and reckless at times

Hence why the higher ups assign him as your supervisor or so to speak, he acknowledges your lack of experience as well as your potential that’s why he agreed to be your supervisor

But he didn’t sign up to be your babysitter….

“Wait up would ya?,” you whine as you quickly jog to be by his side

He tilted his head to the side, studying you from afar to assess any damages on your body from the fall earlier “Time awaits for no one,”

“Please do think before anything else, stop making a fool out yourself while representing the IPC,” he continues his statement as he paced himself to be slightly slower for you to catch up

You huff feeling a little bit dejected by his statement but it’s the truth and from this past year of working beside him, you knew he always have your best interest at heart, well even though most of the times he verbally bullies you

“Yes yes of course Mr. Ratio,” you smile as you walk beside him, you notice that he slowed down his pace earlier, it made you smile to know that behind that rude demeanour he does care a lot

He steal a glance at your expression before resuming to look at the road ahead, he can’t help but to feel comfort in knowing that you didn’t seem to take his words to heart

He always finds it hard to express his truth towards others because to be frank the truth hurts, yet the pain itself is a important element to achieve improvement, pain used as a motivation of sorts

Most people deemed his truthful nature to be harmful yet you’re astoundingly adept in his true nature, you easily read between the lines and see his objective clearly

“Can I ask you something ?,” his sudden inquiry surprises you, it is usually you who do the asking, you deem this as a pleasant surprise

“Sure go ahead,” you reply casually while masking your excitement, he rarely does this so you’re ecstatic

“I know you’re both emotionally and intellectually intelligent, but I can’t seem to grasp why you’re so reckless at times,” he smiles as he ask this question, he’s mostly likely to remember a gamble you took a few weeks ago

Well granted you almost lose your life by gambling your life away in a literal sense to gain a dictator’s trust towards the IPC, but at least you won

Ever since that stunt, Ratio seems to respect you more although afterwards he berated your gamble for two hours straight

“Audaces fortuna iuvat,” you reply as you stare at his face, his merely scoffs as he took notice of the philosophy behind your statement

In a sudden trance he leans down towards your face, ardently reading through your flustered expression caused by the sudden close proximity “Fortune favours the bold, that’s very true to yourself,” his voice deepens as it is drenched in sultriness

Well this is an uncharted territory between you both-

He then leans back towards his previous position, smirking as he relish in your dumbstruck expression, he gently strokes your hair as a sign of acknowledgement something you didn’t knew you enjoyed before

“Now then we should get going, our next meeting is due in approximately 13 minutes,” he stated as he retracts his hand away and leaves you behind yet again but this time speechless and flustered

“H-hey !, what was that about ?,” you huff as you try to catch up with him, not knowing that he’s currently blushing himself underneath that cold exterior of his

“What have I done..” he mutters as he covers his face with his alabaster head

[dumplingsjinson]

List of “how about we get comfy and cozy with each other, in more ways than one?” prompts

(Warning: This list is pretty much an overshare in the form of a prompt list, because it is very much based on my personal experiences. A lot of TMI happens. 

If that makes you uncomfortable, please don’t read the list. If you’re okay with it, proceed on at your own discretion. 

Don’t say I didn’t warn you because… It’s a lot.) 

1. “I hope I’m not being too needy.” “Well, I like it when you’re needy. I like it when you’re like this.” (THE FUCKING AUDACITY OF THIS MAN WLEIFLEKWNKLEWFN) 

2. Character B groping Character A’s ass while they’re making out.

3. Character A moaning and whimpering into Character B’s ear while rubbing themselves against Character B’s thigh, desperate for release.

4. “I… I want you to touch me,” Character A admits, while staring up at the ceiling, cheeks reddening in an increasing show of embarrassment.

5. “Tell me to stop if it becomes too much, okay?” 

6. Character B dry humping Character A; hips thrusting into theirs, picking up with the pace when Character A whimpers in their ear and pulls Character B even closer in response because they don’t want any sort of space left between them; not even a sliver. 

7. Character B getting all sweaty and heated while they’re dry humping Character A.

8. Character B taking off their shirt to get more comfortable with Character A, and Character A subtly admiring their physique. (WHEN HE DID THAT?? THE DISRESPECT??? This guy’s gonna ruin me, I know it sjjsjs)

9. “Don’t be too loud,” Character B murmurs softly, planting a tender kiss on Character A’s face while sliding their thigh against Character A’s crotch, taking in the way Character A lets out a strangled sigh at that. (SIRRRR?? THEN DON’T FUCKING DO THIS TO ME?? WTF LWKENFWEK. Mind you, his fam came home after we were alone for an hour or two, so-)

10. Character A and Character B continuously checking in on each other every now and again to make sure they’re comfortable with the way things are going. 

11. Character B planting soft kisses all over Character A’s face and their neck, reassuring and sweet while things get very, very heated. 

12. “You’re going to make me not want to leave the bed if you keep doing this,” Character A warns in a low moan, as Character B continues to kiss their neck, their body pressing against Character A’s. Character B only chuckles in response, nipping at their skin playfully. 

13. Legs tangling together so they can get closer to each other. 

14. Character B fondling Character A, enjoying the noises they’re eliciting from Character A; enjoying the way they’re making Character A unravel at the seams, coming undone by their touch so easily. 

15. Character A hiding their face into Character B’s shirt because they can’t keep the noises at bay, and hoping to God they’re not being too loud. 

16. Character A and Character B’s hands roaming each other’s bodies, almost like they can’t get enough of each other (and they can’t. They can’t get enough of each other is the fucking problem here).

17. Character A desperately humping Character B’s thigh, chasing their high, shameless noises scraping at the back of their throat. 

18. Character B’s fingers speeding up in response to the sweet sounds falling out of Character A’s mouth. 

19. Character B letting their hands wander all over Character A’s body; slipping under their shirt, their pants, their undergarments, and Character A enjoying having their hands all over them like this even though they’re too shy to admit to that with words. 

20. “Do you want me to straddle you?” 

21. “How am I supposed to think about anything else while fucking myself now?” Character A questions in a rushed gasp as Character B continues to rub their thigh against their crotch.

22. “You’re so adorable,” Character B murmurs as they continue to thrust their hips into Character A’s. “How is me doing this adorable to you?” Character A questions, moaning a little at a particularly hard thrust of Character B’s hips against theirs. 

23. Character B leaving hickeys on Character A’s neck, on spots that make them pretty damn visible to the public.

24. “So… How do you like it on top?” “It’s uh… It’s an interesting experience.”

25. Character B’s body responding to the noises Character A’s making because of what they’re doing with them; to them.

26. Character B’s hand slipping past Character A’s pants to grope their bare ass while they’re dry humping each other.

27. Character B hitching Character A onto their thigh, pressing their thigh firmly against Character A’s crotch to tease them. 

28. Character B caging Character A between their arms while kissing them, and Character A’s arms wrapping around Character B’s neck to pull them closer, fingers carding through their hair; hands sliding down their neck; their shoulders; their arms; slipping under their tank top, palms resting against their bare skin; palms gliding along their spine and their back. 

29. Character B asking for consent whenever they want to do something a little out of the blue, and stopping when Character A isn’t comfortable with it. (BOUNDARY RESPECTING KING, PEOPLE NEED TO BE LIKE HIM!!) 

30. “Sorry if I went too far,” Character B says, and Character A shakes their head. “No, you didn’t go too far. You didn’t go far at all; you didn’t go far enough,” Character A says, flushing at the brazen admission coming out of their own mouth.

31. Character B trailing kisses down Character A’s chest/breasts. 

32. Character B pulling up Character A’s undergarment/shirt and taking Character A’s breast/nipple into their mouth, with Character A arching into them with pleasure at the unexpected gesture, a soft, encouraging gasp leaving them.

33. Character B slipping their hand under Character A’s shirt/undergarments to fondle with their nipples/breasts. 

34. Just Character A being a needy little fuck and needing Character B to be all over them because they’re so fucking addicted to the taste of them and the way their body rocks against theirs. 

35. Character A letting out little obscenities while they’re fooling around, which only fuels Character B further. 

36. “Well, now I’m really wet/hard.” “I see no problem with that.” 

37. Character A rocking back against Character B while they’re spooning and Character B shallowly thrusting against them in response. 

38. Character A biting their bottom lip to try and keep quiet (and failing pretty miserably).

39. “Yeah, you like that?” Character B softly murmurs into Character A’s ear as Character A lets out an involuntary sigh, arching up into Character B in response. 

40. “Well… I do fantasise being restrained by handcuffs.” “We can try that in the future if you’d like.” (WELL FUCK ME I GUESS LWKENFEWLKNF) 

41. Character A moaning into Character B’s mouth while they’re making out, which spurs Character B on, with the way they pull Character A even closer and kisses them harder; with much more fervour than before. 

42. Character B touching, teasing and feeling Character A up. (DID Y’ALL GET THAT WAYV REFERENCE OR WHAT—)

43. Character B caressing the side Character A’s thigh while they’re kissing.

44. “And you’re telling me this is what cuddling is?” “Mhm.” “Bullshit.”

45. Character A fucking themselves on Character B’s fingers, whimpering in a way they’d be embarrassed about if they weren’t so in the moment. 

46. Character A trying so fucking hard to control the soft little whimpers leaving them when Character B rubs against them with their fingers. 

47. “I’m all over the place and it’s all your fault,” Character A whines while Character B chuckles. “Mmm, it’s not all on me, you know,” Character B says, tone teasing. 

48. “It’s just me and you now,” Character B murmurs softly, planting a kiss on Character A’s lips, slowly rocking their hips against Character A. (onrwlfgnrekljng FUCK!! OFF!! ALKFHEWLKNF) 

49. Character B closing the blinds for privacy reasons. (He was struggling to close the blinds and I was giggling and teasing him about that lmfaofenlkfn)

50. Character B slipping their thigh between Character’s A’s legs with the intention of messing with them.

51. Character A grinding against Character B’s thigh and Character B responding by pressing their thigh firmer against Character A. 

52. The soft pleas and whimpers slipping out of Character A’s mouth as Character B quickens the thrusts of their fingers. 

53. “How are you feeling?” Character B would ask every now and then to make sure Character A’s comfortable and okay with what they’re doing, and the pace they’re going at. (This is ALWAYS so fucking sexy! Do this with your partner) 

54. Character B unbuttoning/unzipping Character A’s pants, in a tauntingly slow manner; slips their hand past the waist band of Character A’s pants whilst Character A squirms around a little, their heartbeat quickening in anticipation of what’s to come. (Uh, no pun intended???)

55. Taking a break in between each of their little sessions and cuddling with each other, and using those moments to check in on each other.

56. Character B stopping themselves from going further whenever they sense Character A getting a bit overwhelmed with everything that’s happening and making sure that they’re okay. (He just… He’s so caring and it’s so fucking sweet AHHHH) 

57. Character B’s ragged, laboured breathing in Character A’s ear as they fuck themselves against Character A, and Character A squeezing their biceps in encouragement; the soft pants from Character B and the whimpers and moans from Character A intermingling in the air.

58. Character A burying their face in Character B’s chest out of pure embarrassment after doing all of that, and Character B chuckling at them while cuddling them close to their chest, planting several kisses on their face. 

59. Character A’s clothing smelling like Character B’s because of how much they were all over each other, all day and night. 

60. Character A leaving Character B’s room with the messiest hair by the end of the night.

[chamerionwrites]

One of the more fascinating examples of fandom’s faves-based morality I’ve personally encountered recently was the number of people in the Mon Mothma tag who were absolutely BURNING with righteous fury at her 13-year-old daughter in Andor, when the worst things we have actually seen said character do are (1) be kind of a little shit to her mom (again, she’s thirteen) and (2) fall victim to a space tradwife cult. You know, because she’s thirteen. And has a pretty self-evidently lonely and unpleasant home life. And lives directly in the rotten beating ideological heart of space fascism.

The number of people vocally wishing punishment on a fictional tween was WILD. I unfollowed that tag after ~48 hours lol

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green - Part 13

Cass looked up as Jason came out of Danny’s room. He looked better.

After Danny had been stabilized, Cass had taken Jason away from the safe house and to Jason’s place with the gym in the basement. She knew what it was like to have that need to act— to hurt to ruin to end— burning under her skin. She gave Jason the fight that he needed, letting him punch and kick until they were both covered in bruises and he was shaking apart in her arms.

Today he looked better.

“N is going to stay with Danny,” Jason said with a little nod backwards.

Dick, Jason, Tim, and herself had all been taking turns staying with their new brother. He was sleeping a lot right then; he was waking with nightmares a lot too. Waking up with one of them touching him seemed to help him calm the quickest so they took turns staying close.

“Red?” Cass asked with a little tilt of her head.

Jason glanced at the clock on the oven as he opened the fridge. He wasn’t really hungry, but eating out of habit. “He’ll be over here in two hours, I he doesn’t get distracted.”

“Be nice. Red cares. He’ll be here,” she said.

Jason seemed to settle on something and popped the top off before throwing it in the microwave. “Yeah… yeah. Danny’s pretty much wormed his way into all of our hearts, hasn’t he?”

“Yes. Will for rest too.”

Jason snorted. “As if he already hasn’t with B. They didn’t need to meet for that. You know how the old man is, a real bleeding heart of stone.”

Cass rolled her eyes and ordered again, “Be nice.”

Jason frowned at her but she just smiled serenely back until he rolled his eyes. It was a win enough for her.

The heated food was set on a trivet between them and Jason stuck two forks in it.

“I’m thinking we get O in here in a few days,” he said around his own large bite of lasagna. “Danny is healing better this time, but we don’t know what sort of set back this will cause mentally and all. Having another set of hands would be good.”

“O will like him.”

“Course she will,” Jason said with almost a scoff.

“No O and Red,” Cass added thoughtfully after she had chewed her own bite. This was definitely Jason lasagna and not Alfred lasagna.

“Yeah… I don’t think I’m going to trust those three in a room together for a long time,” Jason said with a dawning sort of horror. “Danny took apart the remote here and now it has buttons for services I didn’t even know existed. I swear it will change shows on its own too if no one is paying attention to it. It’s useful, I guess, but a little creepy.”

“Ghost brother,” Cass said with a little shrug.

Jason’s eyes narrowed before he let out an exhausted sounding sigh. “I hate that you might be right. Our controller could be haunted now.”

“Alas poor Yorick?”

“Wrong character,” Jason said, pointing with his fork, “but that is a play with a ghost in it so good job.”

Cass smiled happily at the praise. “Once Red is here, you and me errands?”

“You just want to buy Danny another present,” Jason said, jabbing his fork in her direction.

“Yes,” she said with zero shame.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Fine, but we have to do groceries too.”

-

Babs had been warned that Danny was still very skittish, but he hadn’t actually expected him to freeze like a scared rabbit when she came into the apartment. She stopped rolling forward and moved her hands to where he could see them both clearly.

“Hi Danny,” she said with her kindest librarian voice that she had. “I’m Oracle. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Danny shook his head, the motion ran through him like a shudder and whatever had frozen him shook off him like water off a dog. His smile was still shaky though, so Babs didn’t think that whatever the reaction had been was completely done.

“Hi, Oracle.” His voice was soft, rough, a little broken.

She’d heard from a number of the bats about the latest development and the trauma that went with it, but it as still something to see someone that looked like a young Bruce covered in bandages and looking more than worse for the wear.

“Are you alright if I come in? If you aren’t, that’s alright. I’ll just talk with Nightwing in the hall for a little.”

“No, you can come in,” Danny said, sitting up a little straighter. His eyes flicked over her again. “It’s just… your hair reminded me of someone is all. No one… no one bad.”

Babs offered him a smile and came the rest of the way into the apartment. “If that changes, just let me know.”

“It’s fine, really,” Danny said, though the words were still a little bit of a whisper.

“Well then,” Dick said, interrupting the end of the oddly tense moment, “Babs, do you want any hot chocolate?”

“Thank you, but without the mountain of whip cream I know you liked to put on it,” she said, giving Dick a playful glare.

He shrugged unrepentantly. “Danny?”

“Yes please,” he said. He was fussing with the blanket he had been sitting under, folding it up just so.

Babs moved towards the kitchen to give him a little bit of space and the illusion of some privacy.

‘What was that about?’ Babs asked Dick silently through raised eye brows, a slightly twisted frown, and a subtle nod towards the living room.

‘Not a damn clue,’ is what Dick’s shrug said back.

It almost made Babs sigh.

Danny was still a complete mystery to her. While they were being good and had avoided taking blood or fingerprints from Danny, Barbara had at least been trying to find Danny’s path through the city. She’d been saying for days now that the boy was like a ghost.

She just didn’t expect that to be as literal as it was.

The nickname had lost any of its fun.

“Danny, whipped cream for you?” Dick asked.

Danny’s eyes darted from Dick to Babs.

“Oh, feel free to have it like N,” Babs said with a smile. “I just don’t have the sweet tooth that he does.”

“She never has, it’s tragic,” Dick said with a sigh as he started to warm a pot of milk. “So, whipped cream.”

“Um, yes,” Danny said.

“I will take sprinkles though,” Babs said. “Do you have the little—”

“Bats?” Dick scoffed. “Of course I have the little bats. You can’t have proper hot chocolate without the little bat sprinkles.”

“Of course not,” words serious but unable to help the little smile that she sported.

“You all really like the theme, don’t you?” Danny asked, though he was smiling too now.

“The boy in the hoddie with the Bat logo on it does not get to talk,” Dick said and tossed a large marshmallow at Danny with pin point accuracy.

Danny caught it effortlessly and started to pull it apart with a little shrug. “Hood got if for me as a present.”

“Of course he did,” Tim said as he finally emerged from wherever he had been tucked away. He handed the tablet he was carrying over to Danny before he sat down in the neighboring armchair. “He’s just trying to claim you first, as if him and I didn’t find you together.”

“Hot chocolate, Red?” Dick asked while Danny was busy looking bewildered at that.

“Sure, but add some coffee to it?” Tim asked.

“No,” Dick replied far too cheerfully. “But seriously Dandelion, a Bat logo from a Bat means something.”

Danny’s face scrunched up at that and he looked down at himself. “I don’t think… he was trying to claim me?”

Babs snorted. “Oh, trust us, he was absolutely claiming you. He probably felt that he had to do something material to even start to compete with B.B., as if he wasn’t cooking for you all the time.”

Danny stared back at her with wide blue eyes. The open surprise and desperate want was odd to see on someone that looked so much like Bruce. Damian certainly never let himself appear that way.

“And Red is already souping up your tablet, I’m assuming— though if you really want an improvement let me see it,” she continued, talking over Tim’s little snort, “and N is making you the special hot chocolate. Even Signal is thinking what he can get you and Spoiler is whining that she hasn’t met you yet.”

“She is getting so annoying,” Tim whined while Danny stuffed the shredded marshmallow in his mouth, likely to get out of saying anything. He looked more than a little teary eyed. Tim gave him the out by continuing, “We’ll have her over one morning when she’ll be tired and easily distracted by waffles. You’re not up for the full Spoiler experience yet.”

“Trust Red on that,” Dick interjected as he stirred the coco, “he dated her.”

“I don’t know what either of us were thinking,” Tim said with a sigh. “We are both way too high maintenance in different ways for it to have worked.”

“You were still waiting for you bi awakening, baby bird, you were missing out on half the options,” Dick said. He dropped one of the oversized marshmallows in each of the four mugs before pouring the scalding hot chocolate over it.

Babs left him to his sorcery and wheeled over to the couch before working her way onto it. Danny helpfully moved the blanket out of the way and then offered it back after. She draped it carefully over her legs.

“So what did Red do to your tablet?”

“I actually didn’t do anything,” Tim said, and then had to pause. “Well, not after I gave it to Danny at least. I was just making sure everything was still good. Danny’s been tinkering with it.”

Danny gave a little shrug and picked at the edge of his hoodie.

“Do you like engineering then? Or inventing?” Babs asked, trying to encourage Danny to open up a little.

“Yeah, my— I—, I mean…” Danny stumbled over his words. He lost some of his color with each false start until he was worryingly grey. He swallowed thickly. “Yeah, I used to at least.”

“Danny, hot chocolate,” Dick said with impeccable timing as always.

Danny whispered a thanks and took the almost overflowing mug. He could basically hide behind the mound of whipped cream and he definitely tried to. Babs took the offered mug with a much more modest dollop but an absurd amount of bat sprinkles. Her lips twitched up in a smile as she took a sip.

Tim’s portion was somewhere in between Bab’s and Danny and of course Dick’s was practically laughable. It’s a wonder he didn’t make an absolute mess of himself drinking it as they argued over a movie to watch. It was clever of the Bats, really, they had started to narrow down how long Danny had been a test subject by what movies he had seen or not.

It was somewhere between seventeen and twenty-three months.

Nearly two years.

They were all lucky that Danny had made it out at all. They all knew the statistics of something like that.

Hot chocolate turned into dinner turned into Danny cuddling Dick on the couch and eventually resting against Bab’s legs. A good sign about her acceptance, according to the birds.

“Oracle?”

Babs had thought that Danny was asleep. She reached out to run the tips of her fingers through his hair. The lights from the movie that was still playing glinted off her pink nails. “Yes, Danny?”

“If I asked… would you be able to find someone for me?”

She tilted her head. “The person that I remind you of?”

“Yes. Just… just so that I know she’s okay.”

“Is she in danger?”

“No, she’s not like me. She’s…” Danny cut himself off, swallowing back the words.

“But you’d still like to know.”

“Yes.”

Babs hummed. It was technically an abuse of her powers, but they were something she abused all the time. “Yes, if you ask me to, I can find out if she’s okay.”

“Okay. I’ll… maybe I’ll ask. Thank you.”

“Of course, Danny.”

---

AN: I struggled with this chapter at first, but it was because I was jumping right to Barbara meeting Danny and not giving the others some more time to deal with the change in Danny. They still haven't really dealt with it, right now they're focused on healing and getting more help through Babs being around.

All our poor Bat's. So attached already and so traumatized.

But not as traumatized as Danny...

Stay delightful, darlings!

[moonstruckme]

absolutely live for ur roommate!james could you maybe write one on him meeting some of readers friends for the first time or calling james to pick u up after a girls night 😇would love to see him finally feel “included” in our life like we are in his

Thank you for requesting lovely!

cw: alcohol

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1k words

James is so absorbed in the football match on his phone that when there’s a tap on the window next to his face, he jolts halfway across the center console and squeaks like he’s twelve years old again. 

You’re beaming outside the car. Your shoulders shake with quiet, un-self-conscious laughter, so it’s impossible for James to be any kind of upset. Still, he makes a show of huffing a little as his own smile spreads. He reaches over and opens his door. 

“Sorry,” you say. You don’t look it, so he lets you off the hook for your over-apologizing. 

“Who do you think would drive you home if I had a heart attack?” James asks. He’s somewhat breathless, either because of the scare or the easier-than-usual grin still fixed on your face. 

You lean against the side of his car and roll your eyes. “Oh, your heart’s too healthy to be in danger of attacks.” 

“What are you doing on this side of the car? You’re the passenger, you know.”

“Okay, listen.” You give him a very intentional look. It’s more eye contact than he’s used to from you, and it makes his guts go all twisty in a surprisingly nice way. “It’s completely up to you, of course, but I think I’m about to make you an offer you can’t refuse.” 

It clicks into place. “You’re drunk.” 

“Not very.” Your grin is a short fall from impish. Your eyes sparkle. God help him. “But you’re about to be.” 

James feels his eyebrows float up. “How do you figure?” 

“Because I’ve come to collect you. If you want.” 

“To collect me…where?”

“Inside,” you say, as though this should be obvious. You tip your head towards the restaurant. “We’ve just closed, and we have so much wine. Pleasepleaseplease, James, come in.” 

“Okay.” He’s letting you tug him from his car before he knows what he’s agreed to, only that one please will always be enough to get whatever you want from him. “Alright, love, but doesn’t your manager mind that you’re drinking their wine?” 

You let loose a bark of laughter, loud and sharp and totally unlike you. “Tom? Yeah, right.” 

Tom, James learns quickly upon entering the rowdy atmosphere of your workplace after hours, is younger than the both of you, hardly old enough to serve alcohol and yet managing the restaurant. And the wine isn’t stolen, necessarily, but the fortunate leavings of a wealthy customer who bought more bottles than his table could handle and then left nearly all of them. 

Everyone who’d been on the night shift is strewn about the empty restaurant. Servers and busboys and dishwashers all perched on stools, standing behind the bar, sitting criss-cross-applesauce on tables. You take James by the hand, first reclaiming the bottle of wine you’d evidently stored behind the host’s station and then leading him around the room to introduce him to various coworkers. His hand feels warm and tingly. You have an easy repartee and a million in-jokes with the servers, but even the kitchen staff seems to adore you. As they rightly should, James thinks. It’s obvious you’re as kind and considerate here as you are at home, and he feels a bit silly for not having been able to picture you in this place so clearly before now. 

Art is working with you again tonight. It’s embarrassing, the warm wave of relief that James feels when he notices you don’t pay him any extra attention. He makes a mental note to extend his offer of a ride home more often. Every time your hand starts to slip from James’, you readjust your grip before he can even think of doing it himself. Suits him just fine; ever since your mugging incident, suddenly James is in this weird place where he always wants a hand on you.

You say his name, and then the lip of a bottle is being pushed against his lips. 

“You haven’t had hardly any.” You look like you’re trying to pout, but your eyes are smiling. 

James takes the bottle from you. He looks you in the eyes as he takes a sip as if to say, Happy? It’s barely enough to warm his throat. “I am still driving us home, you know.”  

The pout is getting better. “I know, but I’m trying to be fun for you. You don’t have to drive us if you don’t want to! You’re always the one doing the nice things.” 

“Oh, don’t.” His tone is fonder than he means for it to be, but luckily you’re too tipsy to mind. “You’re plenty fun. You do nice things for me all the time.” 

“Yeah, but not enough to balance out.” You make your eyes big and pitiful. James feels fortunate this isn’t a skill you seem inclined to utilize sober. “Obviously you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but—Jamie, don’t hold back because of me, please.” 

His stomach does an impressive flip. He doesn’t think you realize you’ve called him that, doubts you’d have done it under normal circumstances, but his nervous system cares not for rationalizations. He wants desperately to hear you say it again. 

You beam as James lifts the bottle to his lips again, taking a few hearty gulps. You both end up walking home that night, but you wake even before James to go retrieve his car in the morning.

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (13/?)

Part Summary: “I love you, Leigh,” you declare, the words tumbling out almost uncontrollably. Ever since you stepped off that plane and your feet touched back on home ground, you've been aching to say it. Her eyes turn steely, the brief flicker of doubt swallowed up by resolve. “You say that now,” Leigh counters, her laugh dark and hollow. “But I'm not easy. Loving me might just kill you.”

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5.900+ | Warnings: Some angst | Author's note: I think there will be just 2-3 more chapters before we close this book. Just fyi!

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII

-

When you finally stir awake, the room is washed in a soft morning light. Beside you, Leigh is already up, sitting on the edge of the bed in yesterday’s clothes. Her hair is pulled back casually, a few strands hanging loose, looking a bit disheveled but still unintentionally perfect—or perhaps that's just your infatuation speaking in the early morning haze. But you can't help yourself.

“Morning,” you mumble, voice gravelly from sleep, as you try to tame your own bedhead. You're still barely clothed under the thin covers in contrast to Leigh’s state of fully dressed. The realization makes you blush, remembering last night’s affairs. Subconsciously, you pull the covers tighter around your body, a wave of shyness washing over you. 

“Hey,” Leigh whispers in return, giving you a small smile.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, feeling a pleasant ache in your inner thighs and back. “What time is it?” you ask, glancing around, trying to determine the time based solely on the sunlight filtering through the windows.

“It's still early,” she says, checking her phone. “But I've been up for a bit.”

You notice the creases in her clothes, evidence of a night spent on your floor. She seems a bit distant this morning, thoughtful, like she's already planning her day.

“You could have woken me,” you say, letting a small, teasing smile play across your lips.

Leigh shakes her head. “You were sleeping so soundly, I didn't want to wake you,” she says, her eyes holding yours for a moment longer than necessary. There's a warmth there, but also something you can't quite read.

“But I did make coffee,” she offers, tilting her head toward the kitchen. Her eyes land on the pile of your clothes scattered on the floor, remnants of just a few hours earlier. She clears her throat and her cheeks color a little as she says, “I'll let you get dressed first then.” Without another word, she heads back to the kitchen.

You grab some clothes and quickly dress, and then a thought hits you. Was Leigh watching you sleep? The idea makes you a bit giddy, flipping a fluttery feeling through your stomach. It's strange to think about, but also kind of endearing. Her sticking around this morning feels like a small victory. Being with Leigh felt good, but you weren’t sure what to expect at sunrise. 

In the kitchen, you watch Leigh move with an easy familiarity, exploring the cabinets and figuring out where things are stashed. She quickly locates the mugs right above the coffee brewer, grabs two, and sets them down on the counter.

“How do you take yours?” she asks, her hand hovering over the sugar and cream.

You shrug. “Two creams, two sugars?”

Leigh is meticulous, measuring each spoonful of sugar, ensuring there's just the right amount of room for cream. Every small adjustment she makes for your preference makes your heart skip. You’re touched by the simple fact that she cares enough to know and remember exactly how you like it.

You realize, not for the first time, but perhaps the most profoundly, that you’re falling in love with her. You have been for some time now, but this morning it feels like the descent down a rollercoaster—fast, exhilarating, and a little bit terrifying. There's no slowing down or stopping it; you just have to close your eyes and hold on for dear life.

As you both sip your coffee, you find yourself easing into the comfort of small talk, curious about Leigh's return to working at The Beautiful Beast. She mentioned needing to help her mom out, especially after a few recent resignations—a situation you understand all too well from your own experiences with running a business and the never-ending struggles of hiring staff and managing them.

While part of you listens, another part is preoccupied with thoughts of last night. You want to delve into what happened, to ask if she enjoyed herself, and to apologize for not being more assertive. You want to confirm what it means for both of you, but the thought makes your hand tremble slightly around your coffee mug.

Before you can gather your courage, Leigh’s phone vibrates loudly on the table. She checks it and her expression tightens. “I need to go,” she says suddenly, standing up. 

You automatically stand up too, but without a clear next move, you find yourself frozen, waiting for something to happen. Both of you are just standing there—Leigh figuring out how to leave, and you, how to say goodbye.

Then, as if deciding for both of you, Leigh steps forward and gives you a quick peck on the lips. “I’ll see you later,” she says.

“Bye,” you reply, a bit dazed as you watch her grab her things and leave. 

You touch your lips, feeling the ghost of Leigh’s quick kiss, an electric zip that lingers like the aftertaste of strong coffee. You’ve seen Leigh in nothing but shadows and moonlight, felt the undeniable press of her bare skin against yours, but the shock of her kiss never dulls. It’s a bit like being struck by lightning—no matter how many times it happens, you never get used to the jolt.

-

Sara sits confidently across from you, dressed in a black turtleneck and slacks, attire appropriate for a formal interview. Earlier, she mentioned she's finishing her thesis and is interested in a part-time job that can accommodate her academic commitments, which seems ideal. However, the situation is far from perfect. Ideally, hiring someone you once found attractive isn't the best practice, but she's the only applicant who has responded to your job postings so far.

Feeling her eyes fixed on you, you fiddle with the sleeves of your coat while reviewing her résumé. Between you is a history as transient as a wisp of smoke but clear nonetheless. You’d almost ventured into something with her after a lonely night spent swiping through an app you swore off a dozen times before. And with the recent memory of Leigh leaving your apartment still vivid in your mind, you question whether considering Sara for the job is the right decision.

“So?” Sara ventures after you've been quiet for a while. You feel your cheeks warm with a blush, realizing you've been stalling. Forcing yourself, you tear your eyes away from her rather impressive qualifications.

Letting out a sigh, you set down your glasses, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Honestly, this just doesn't feel serious,” you confess. “I keep expecting Suzie to pop out with her phone, recording this whole thing as a prank.”

Sara's laughter spills out, rich and melodious. It’s infectious, and after a while you find yourself chuckling too.

“I promise, I'm serious,” she assures you, still smiling. She leans forward, her voice dropping to almost a whisper. “Look, our history was brief. We didn’t really date, we just met that one time—”

“Twice,” you interrupt, unable to resist correcting her.

Her smile broadens. “—outside of the app. We can be friends, forget all that other stuff, okay?”

You consider her words, searching her face for any sign of discomfort or hesitation. Finding none, you ask, “And that won’t be weird for you?”

“Not at all,” she replies confidently, her head shaking slightly. “And… if you're alright with just part-time for now?”

“Yeah, I can manage reception on my own some days,” you say. But there's another nagging thought that won't let you go. 

Sara quickly catches on to your dithering. “What is it?” 

“It's just... aren't you worried this job is a bit beneath you? You're chasing an MBA. Wouldn’t you rather find something more aligned with your degree?” you ask. 

She leans back, her eyes narrowing slightly in thought. “I’ve considered that,” she says slowly, “but right now, the flexibility this job offers is what I need most. And honestly, I believe in what your clinic is doing—it's a good place to be, even if it’s just a stop along the way.”

You smile at that, genuinely touched by her kind words about your establishment and the work you do. 

“Alright, then, I just have one more question to, uh, make this official,” you say, shuffling the papers in front of you. “You've got impressive organizational skills and a solid background in customer service. How do you think these will help you in a medical office setting?”

Sara doesn’t hesitate, her answer ready almost before you've finished speaking.

-

“Are we sure it's okay to leave Sara by herself while we grab lunch?” you ask, a slight frown forming as you think about what might need handling while you're gone.

Suzie gives you a reassuring smile as she slings her purse over her shoulder. “She’ll be fine. It’s usually quiet around this time, and I’ve given her a rundown of the essentials. Plus, she knows she can text me if anything comes up.”

You can't shake off a sliver of worry, knowing how overwhelming the first day can be. “Alright,” you say, still unconvinced but trusting Suzie’s judgment. “Let’s make it quick then.”

The two of you make your way to a charming little café tucked around the corner. It's a snug nook, celebrated for its hearty sandwiches and home-cooked soups. As you walk, the idea of bringing Leigh here bubbles up in your thoughts—she'd appreciate their renowned kale soup, you reckon.

As you line up to order, Suzie nudges your shoulder lightly. “So, not weird at all hiring an old flame?” she teases.

You roll your eyes. “It's strictly professional. And technically, we never really dated. We just… hung out.”

“Yeah, you hung her out to dry.”

“I’m still your boss for the next two weeks,” you remind her jokingly.

Suzie smirks and raises her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, boss. I'll behave.”

“But seriously, you can't tease me about Sara anymore because, you know…I'm with Leigh now,” you say, looking down at your feet, hiding your grin.

Suzie turns to you, her eyes widening. “Oh. When did this happen?” she asks, her tone noticeably flat. You were expecting her to be more excited about the news.

Your spirits dip a little at Suzie's lackluster reaction. You straighten up and decide to share the brief version of your reunion with Leigh. As you recount the events to Suzie, you keenly watch her reactions, hoping for a clue into her thoughts. You mention forgiving Leigh and how, after forgiveness was exchanged, Leigh kissed you. Throughout your story, Suzie's expression remains unreadably neutral. 

When you finish, she finally speaks, “Honestly, I'm happy for you. Just make sure you're both on the same page.”

“She did stay until morning,” you tell Suzie, feeling a need to convince her—and maybe yourself—that this is significant. After all, someone making you coffee in the morning has to mean something, right?

“Okay, that’s definitely a good sign,” she says with cautious optimism. “But have you guys talked about what this all means? Like, are you actually together now or what?”

The reality of her question gradually settles on you after a few moments. “We haven't really defined anything,” you admit.

Suzie heaves a sigh just as it's her turn to order. She picks a dark chocolate frappuccino and a salmon bagel, loaded with extra cream cheese, then drifts off to a corner to wait while you place your order. As you step up to the counter, you realize you’ve lost your appetite. You settle for an Americano and a mixed bowl of fruit to go. When your food and drinks are ready, you both head to a corner booth by the window.

Suzie, picking up on your nervousness, advises, “Just take things slow, okay?”

You murmur a noncommittal, “Mhm,” your thoughts adding, Too late for that. The two of you eat in silence until the chime of a text notification breaks through—from Leigh.

You can feel Suzie’s curious gaze at you while you read Leigh’s text:

[12:33 PM] Leigh: Thanks for last night

You hover over the keypad, unsure how to respond.

You’re welcome?

The pleasure was all mine?

You shake your head, cringing at your own thoughts. Suzie catches your expression and squints at you. “Everything alright?” she asks.

“It’s Leigh,” you mumble, glancing briefly from your phone to meet Suzie’s questioning look.

“What did she say?”

Instead of explaining, you tilt your phone towards Suzie, letting her read the message herself. A few seconds later, a knowing smirk forms on her face. 

“She’s playing it safe,” Suzie concludes.

Your phone pings again, making you jump. Almost fumbling it, you quickly check the new message and read it aloud:

[12:34 PM] Leigh: Hey, quick question. What dog shampoo would you recommend? Logan's perfumed smell doesn't really last long.

“She's playing it way too safe,” Suzie remarks, clicking her tongue in disapproval.

Ignoring Suzie, you quickly type back, suggesting a favorite of yours, and include a link to an online store. 

[12:35 PM] You: Try this one <link>. It's hypoallergenic and it should keep Logan smelling fresh longer than the others I've tried.

After sending the message, you look up to find Suzie still wearing a small smile.

“What a bunch of modern idiots,” she murmurs, loud enough for you to hear, before taking a hearty sip from her drink.

You and Leigh continue texting about Logan and his needs. She mentions she'll drop by tomorrow to pick up his supplies. You keep to yourself that you're already planning to gather everything and surprise her by dropping it off at her place—an excuse to see her again.

-

You leave the clinic early, gripping a bouquet of flowers in one hand and Logan’s bag of supplies in the other. Since that lunch with Suzie, you've been introspective and quiet, wrestling with the idea that she might be right about defining your relationship with Leigh. You realize you're already in too deep, weary of assumptions and the uncertainty of not knowing where you stand with her.

Expecting to find Leigh at her mom's fitness studio in the late afternoon, you make your way there.

But she isn't there.

“Oh, hi, Y/N,” Jules greets you from behind the reception desk. She's busy wiping down the counter and sorting through stacks of folders—membership forms that appear to have accumulated over the past few years.

“Is Leigh around?” you ask, scanning the mostly deserted area. Your eyes sweep past the maintenance staff quietly going about their cleaning, but there’s no sign of Leigh.

You miss the brief flicker of discomfort that crosses Jules's face at the mention of her sister. “Leigh's probably at home,” Jules says evenly, going back to her task. “She takes every Tuesday off.”

While you’re still distracted (and a little disappointed), Jules notices the bouquet you’re holding.

“Are those for her?” she asks.

You give the bouquet of red Chrysanthemums a slight wave, then a bit sheepishly, you nod and confirm, “Yeah.”

“That's sweet, Y/N,” Jules comments, her lips curving slightly.

She seems to expect you to leave since Leigh isn't around, but instead, you take a seat on one of the stools at the reception.

“How are you, by the way?” you ask, flashing a warm smile at her. You lean your arms on the counter and start drumming your fingers, genuinely interested in her response.

“You sure you wanna hang around? Leigh hates waiting for anyone,” she says. Though her words are light, there’s a shadow behind them that yanks your attention. 

“Is everything okay? I mean, with you and Leigh?” you ask cautiously. Jules doesn’t speak for a moment too long, and you nearly backtrack, thinking maybe a lighter topic might salvage the awkward silence. 

But just as you’re about to pivot, she blurts out, “I moved out recently.”

You gawk at her, surprised by the sudden confession. Jules notices your open-mouthed shock and it almost coaxes a laugh from her. She's somewhat entertained by your astonishment but also touched that you cared enough to ask. Inside, she’s glad she secretly cheered for you over Danny.

“I know, right? Bet you didn't see that coming,” she says with a wry smile. 

“Moving out is definitely a big step,” you reply, “but uh, you kind of didn’t really answer my question there.”

Jules chuckles and rounds the counter to sit beside you. “No,” she says flatly, her expression sobering as she sits beside you. “And honestly, I'd rather not hash out my issues with Leigh unless it's with my therapist. Talking about it just feels like letting her win somehow.”

She lets out a deep breath, her gaze drifting away momentarily. “And no, I didn't plan on moving out. I just got tired of being treated like crap by my own family.” 

Jules starts picking at the edge of the counter before she looks up. She had mentioned not wanting to discuss it, but somehow, she finds it easy to open up to you.

“I mean, obviously, we're not related by blood,” she continues, “and yeah, it's the 21st century—being adopted shouldn't be a big deal, right? But even though it's common, it doesn't make me feel any more part of the family, any less like an outsider. I feel like an eternal letdown, like I'm always just shy of what they hoped I'd be.”

“What exactly are they hoping for?” you ask softly.

Jules shrugs, her eyes darting away as she wraps her arms around herself protectively. “I don't really know. It's more of an outline than a shape.”

You think about her words for a moment before adding your two cents. “Could it be that maybe some of this pressure is self-imposed? Maybe you're the one filling in the blanks with what you think they expect of you? It's okay just to be yourself, you know. You don't have to be everything to everyone, and that’s perfectly fine,” you say.

Jules nods slowly, her gaze fixed on some distant point. Then, quietly, almost a whisper, she adds, “It's tough, especially with my…you know…past drinking problem. Even though I've been clean for months, it feels like I'm always on trial, always having to prove I’m better now. And when I slip up, even just a little…” her voice falters, “I just... I imagine what they must think of me, if they—”

“If they love you any less for it?” you interject gently.

Her eyes snap back to yours, slightly wet and reddened. Instinctively, you reach out for her hand. Jules grasps it in return, and you give her hand a comforting squeeze.

“I don't really know Leigh in terms of family stuff,” you say, shifting uncomfortably on your stool as you choose your words carefully. “And maybe you've got it right, Jules. But then again, maybe not. See, when we really care about someone, we tend to put them on a pedestal, root for them so hard that sometimes, without even realizing it, we might push them a bit too much.”

You let the thought sit for a while, then continue, your own quandaries weaving into your speech. “Maybe it's best if you talk to Leigh about this... I mean, personally, I need to talk to Leigh about something too. I want to stop assuming things and thinking my perspective is the whole reality. We all do it, don’t we? Set traps for ourselves with our own expectations and assumptions.”

Jules sniffles, manages a faint smile, and discreetly wipes away a tear with her pinkie. Then, unexpectedly, she leans forward and hugs you, her head resting snugly against your cheek. You return the embrace, gently rubbing her back in random circles.

When she steps back, there's a new light of recognition in her eyes. 

“You remind me of Matt.”

You're not sure if that's a flattering comparison or not. You did connect with Matt, after all, not because you were opposites that attracted, but because you saw parts of yourself reflected in him—similar interests, similar ways of thinking.

You can’t help but ask, “How so?”

“Matt always played mediator between Leigh and me. Oddly enough, we both really listened to him, took his opinions to heart. He had this wisdom, you know?” She stops for a second, her expression clouding over. “Which really threw me when I found out about some of the... stupid choices he made.” She gestures towards you apologetically, adding, “No offense.”

“None taken,” you assure her quickly with a lopsided smile.

“Yeah, Matt was that person in the family who really saw everyone, who tried to knit us all together. I miss him,” Jules says wistfully. She looks past your shoulder, into the distance, as if she's seeing his ghost. You don’t look behind you. You can see his ghost in her eyes clearly.

Jules continues, “And whatever went down with Leigh, I don’t think it was all his fault. Leigh... she can be challenging to love sometimes. Oh god, that sounds awful, doesn’t it? I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, understanding what she means more than she might think. “It's okay, Jules. It's hard, loving people isn't always straightforward or easy. They say love brings out the best in us, but often, it brings out the worst.”

“It’s like I can hear Matt talking, but in a female voice,” Jules jokes, returning to her post. “Anyway, are you and my sister finally going out?”

“That’s what I’m hoping to find out soon,” you say, gesturing to the bouquet you're holding. You feel a bit forward buying flowers for a girl, especially since you don’t even know what Leigh's favorite flowers are—or if she likes them at all.

Jules gives you a mischievous grin and says, “Well, good luck with that. For what it's worth, I don't think Leigh dumped Danny for nothing. She seems to really like you.”

“Thanks, that means a lot,” you say, feeling a bit more buoyed as you rise from your seat. 

With a final nod to Jules, you head out, the bouquet of flowers in hand feeling less silly and more like a talisman as you drive straight to Leigh's house.

-

You pull into the driveway of the Shaw residence, your hands gripping the steering wheel a tad too tightly. The bouquet of flowers sits next to you, a daunting shade of red against the gray upholstery, and Logan’s supplies are carefully arranged in the backseat. You mentally rehearse your opening line to Leigh, hoping the surprise might soften the ground for the conversation that needs to follow.

You ring the doorbell and wait, shifting from foot to foot, your hand gripping the stem of the flowers a little too tightly while your other arm cradles the box containing Logan’s things. But when the door swings open, it's not Leigh who greets you.

“D-Danny,” you stammer, the subtle smile on your lips completely falling away.

What is he doing here?

Danny looks equally unenthused to see you. “Hey,” he replies, his eyes briefly dropping to the flowers before meeting yours again. “Looking for Leigh?”

Before you can respond, Leigh appears behind him. Her face emerges as she peers at you over his shoulder, his towering height partially obstructing your view of her. She looks utterly surprised to see you at her doorstep, giving you the impression that she wasn't expecting you and maybe you shouldn't be here at all.

“I… I thought of bringing Logan’s supplies now since I’m free, but… yeah, I should probably go—”

“Danny was just leaving,” Leigh announces abruptly.

You find yourself frozen, rooted to the spot as you turn to face her. Danny looks poised to object, but Leigh fixes him with a look. It's enough. His defiance melts into resignation, his shoulders dropping slightly as he exhales a heavy sigh.

“Fine,” he grumbles, “I'll call you later, Leigh.” He stalks off without waiting for a reply.

You’re still looking at the ground, the front door cracked open, a draft passing in between you and Leigh as you stand on her doorstep.

What was Danny doing here? You can't seem to shake it off.

Leigh reaches out and gently touches your elbow, nudging you inside. “Come in,” she murmurs, leading you past the threshold.

Inside, Leigh takes the box of supplies from your hands. She starts sorting through it, tossing a casual “Thanks” over her shoulder as she examines the contents. Her focus is entirely on Logan’s needs until she looks up and spots the bouquet you’re still hanging onto.

Your cheeks flush as her gaze shifts to the flowers. You had fantasized about a dazzling smile breaking across her features at the sight. Instead, Leigh’s expression tightens with skepticism, her eyes narrowing slightly as she regards the bouquet. 

“Flowers?” Leigh inquires uncertainly.

It's not the response you'd imagined, and you suddenly find yourself scrambling for an explanation, the bouquet feeling unexpectedly cumbersome in your grasp.

“I, uh, passed by a flower shop,” you start, fiddling with a petal as you concoct a small white lie. “I bought some for myself and figured, since I was coming over with Logan's supplies, maybe you'd like some too.”

You've both seen each other naked just hours ago, yet somehow that doesn't seem to matter now. This doesn't feel any easier than before you slept together. 

“They are pretty,” she says, accepting the flowers. She looks around for a moment. “I'll find a vase for these.”

Relieved she's accepted them, you seize the opportunity to change the topic. You're on the verge of asking why Danny was just here, but to your own surprise, a completely different question slips out.

“Where's Logan today?”

“He's with mom,” Leigh says, returning to the living room holding a plain-looking vase. “She’s really bonded with him. Actually, she's out showing him off to some old friends today.”

That coaxes out a small smile from you, imagining Logan charming everyone he meets.

Now the roles reverse and Leigh takes her turn with the questions. “How about you? Weren't we supposed to meet for Logan’s stuff tomorrow?” A beat passes, and she adds, “I wasn’t expecting you.” Her tone isn’t harsh, but it's clear that Leigh isn't fond of surprises. You mentally file that away for future reference.

“I wanted to see you,” you say, the words tumbling out more bluntly than planned. “You left so quickly this morning after... after last night.”

Then, almost without thinking, you find yourself nodding toward the door Danny had exited through, the question spilling out before you can reel it back. “Why was Danny here?” It sounds more accusatory than you intend, and you hurry to cushion it, not wanting to come off as possessive. “I mean, I thought you two were—”

“Broken up?” Leigh fills in the blank sharply. She sets the vase down slowly, then turns to face you, her expression becoming more earnest by the second. 

“Yes, we are,” she confirms, crossing her arms lightly over her chest. “Danny came by to pick up some of his things he had left here. It's not... we’re not back together. But if you’re asking why he’s still in my life, then I have news for you, Y/N: we’re friends. And he’s still Matt’s brother.”

You bite your lip, feeling a surge of defensiveness rise within you. “I'm just wondering, that's all,” you manage to say, trying not to sound too confrontational or possessive. You’re suddenly aware of how precarious your position is—you’re not really entitled to feel jealous or make demands. After all, Leigh hasn't given you any sort of claim over her; you're not officially anything. You came here hoping maybe that would change, but now you worry you might be messing it all up.

“Of course you can be friends with whoever you want,” you add hastily.

“Exactly,” she says, but then she pauses, scrutinizing you with a curious tilt of her head. “But what about you?” she presses, taking slow, deliberate steps towards you, like a predator stalking its prey.

You give her a quizzical look.

“The flowers, showing up without a heads-up... What are you hoping to get out of this?”

As Leigh’s gaze bores into you, probing and skeptical, something inside you snaps. The hurt ricochets through you, searing and unexpected. She was so delicate with you, making you feel all sorts of things while doing wonderful, unspeakable things to your body, and now she’s making you question your own reality.

“I've been falling in love with you, Leigh,” you say, your voice rising without your permission, the words bouncing off the walls with a force that startles even you. “Are you just enormously daft or do you not care at all?”

Silence crashes down like a heavy curtain following your admission. 

But Leigh doesn’t flinch from your outburst, nor does she display any signs of distress. She remains eerily still, almost statue-like. Yet, when you look into her eyes, you see it—the unsteadiness there, the only part of her that seems vulnerable to your scrutiny.

Then, she speaks. Just one word, but it's enough to completely deflate you, a response more chilling than if she had simply said she didn't care. 

“No.”

“What—” you start, but she cuts you off.

“You don’t love me.”

The certainty with which she says it feels like a door slamming shut, final and resolute, leaving no room for doubts or arguments. Your mouth hangs open, muted by her unequivocal assertion that you don't love her. 

You’re gearing up to tell her how wrong she is, to insist that what you feel is real, but she cuts you off with a question that feels like a bucket of ice water.

“When you learned that ‘Nick’ was just Danny all along, that Matt’s brother helped him betray me, what was your first thought?” Leigh's voice is clinical, almost detached. 

You feel like you’re missing something, grasping at the air for an answer that will satisfy her. Her gaze traps you, demanding truth, and you realize you can’t escape until you give it to her. What does she want to hear? What is she trying to understand from this?

“My first thought?” you repeat, trying to remember how it made you feel. “I felt sorry for you, Leigh. I couldn’t believe someone so close to you would do that. I felt angry for you, and yeah, I felt really sorry that you had to go through it.”

Leigh's eyes flicker, a subtle shift like a wince. “You pitied me,” she says, her voice cold. “And you also wanted to fuck me. That can be a real killer combo you could mistake for love.” 

You stumble back a step, your legs suddenly weak as her words sink in. It's as if she's taken your heart and laid it bare under a harsh light, reducing your feelings to something small and pitiful, far from the love you thought you felt.

Finding the nearest surface to lean on, you press your back against the front door. The temptation to leave, to walk away from this painful confrontation, is strong. But the beautiful, infuriating creature in front of you couldn't be more wrong about you, about love, about how you feel for her. And you’re hell-bent on changing her mind, even if it’s the last thing you do.

“Then why be with me last night?” you challenge, your voice strained. “If you really think that, why even bother?”

Leigh's smile takes on a mocking twist, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Just satisfying your curiosity,” she says. “I wanted to lift the veil for you, help you realize it's nothing more than just guilt and sympathy.”

You shake your head. “I don't believe that. Last night wasn't just curiosity or some misguided sense of duty. It was real, Leigh. And I think you know that too.”

Her eyes remain hard, but just beneath, there's a shimmer—perhaps doubt, or something like it.

“You think you know what love is?” she whispers, her voice so faint it's almost lost. “You think it's just about feeling sorry for someone and wanting them?”

“No,” you say firmly. “I think it's about seeing someone for who they are, flaws and all, and wanting to be there for them anyway. I think it's about standing by someone even when it's hard, even when they push you away. And Leigh, I see you. I see all of you, and I still want to be here.

“I love you, Leigh,” you declare, the words tumbling out almost uncontrollably. Ever since you stepped off that plane and your feet touched back on home ground, you've been aching to say it.

Her eyes turn steely, the brief flicker of doubt swallowed up by resolve. “You say that now,” Leigh counters, her laugh dark and hollow. “But I'm not easy. Loving me might just kill you.”

“Leigh—”

“Why do you think Matt was found at the bottom of a forty-foot drop?” she nearly screams, her voice fraying at the edges of hysteria. She starts pacing, her movements restless and agitated. “Why do you think he came to you? Why do you think he kept running from me?”

At the mention of her dead husband, everything suddenly makes sense. The walls she’s built, her reluctant heart—it’s not about being mysterious or difficult. It’s about fear, a deep, visceral terror of being the storm that wrecks another life. Leigh isn't just pushing you away out of whimsy or cruelty; she's doing it because she believes it's the only way to prevent history from repeating itself.

“I’m not Matt.”

She stops pacing, her eyes locking onto yours, filled with anger, fear, and something that looks a lot like pain. “No, you’re not Matt. But you don’t get it. He couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t handle me. I drove him away, and I’ll drive you away too.”

“You didn’t drive Matt away. He was running from his own demons, not you. And I’m not afraid of you. I’m here because I want to be. Because I—”

Her face crumples, the mask she’s been wearing cracking. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” she whispers. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

“I know it’s not easy,” you say, closing the distance between you. You feel her radiating every feeling she’s struggling to contain, the ones she’s attempting to shield from you. “But I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for all of it.”

Her eyes well up, tears slipping down her cheeks. But she doesn’t move away. “Why?” she asks, her voice so small and child-like. “Why would you want to stay?”

“Because I love you,” you say simply, “and I’m not afraid of the cost.”

Leigh gives you a look that could freeze fire—like you’ve just spoken the worst of blasphemies.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you murmur, cupping her neck gently.

“Like what?” she asks, her voice trembling.

“Like it’s the worst thing you’ve ever heard.”

She attempts to smooth over her expression, trying to regain some semblance of control, but there’s a fleeting moment where she resembles a chastised child. You can't help but smile gently, touched by her unguarded reaction.

“Leigh,” you whisper, taking her hands in yours. “One date. Go out with me. Let me prove it to you. Let me show you why it can be a good thing.”

She lets out a shaky breath, and for the first time, there’s a glimmer of hope in her eyes. She nods, almost imperceptibly, but it’s enough. It’s a start.

“Okay,” she whispers in surrender. “One date.”